


The Enigmatic Librarian

by TheHumming6irdWrites (JustAnotherCumberfictionFangirl)



Series: No Time For Regrets [1]
Category: Irish Actor RPF, Michael Fassbender - Fandom
Genre: Anxiety, Did I mention the smut?, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fassy Fic, Fassy with Eyeglasses, Fluff, Heavy Angst, Librarian Fassy, Michael Fassbender AU, Romance, Shameless Smut, Shy Fassy, Slow Build, Social Awkwardness, fuckity fuck fuck, smutty smut smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-18
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-04-26 23:11:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 47,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5024263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAnotherCumberfictionFangirl/pseuds/TheHumming6irdWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darcey Collins is a dreamer. She dreams of meeting THE ONE. The problem is, no-one can even come close to her ideal man... you see, her ideal man is a work of fiction. Her own work of fiction... </p><p>That is until she meets the enigmatic librarian...</p><p>[COMPLETED]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Chapter One**

 

Darcey lugged her heavy bag, bulging with books and files onto her shoulder and headed towards the library. Another long evening of study. And maybe, _if she was lucky_ , a glimpse of _him_.  

Not that she had time to dwell on that right now. Professor Russell had set no less than _four_ essays to be completed by Monday morning. Darcey swore the woman was a sadist. Did she not realise it was Friday for heavens sake?

There went her weekend. _So much for the idea of student life being one long party._

Not that Darcey was like other students. At thirty four years old she was considered by her classmates as far too old to be invited to any of their parties, _being as she was a mature student and all._

Ha, that was a laugh!

 _Her?_ _Mature?_

She shuddered at the thought.

No. If there was one thing you most certainly could _not_  say about Darcey Collins, it was that she was mature.

You see, Darcey was a bit of a dreamer. Her head was in the clouds most days as some romantic tale or other that she had fabricated would weave itself into her psyche. The tale usually involved a young * _cough*_   woman, not unlike herself as the protagonist. She… _sorry_ … _the woman_ , would invariably be swept off her feet by some incredibly educated, ridiculously talented and, _of course_ , deliciously handsome man whom she would meet, quite by chance in the most unlikely of surroundings. They would then, _naturally_ , fall madly and passionately in love and live happily ever after.

_Because life was really like that, wasn’t it?_

She sighed to herself as she considered the reality of her sorry little life…

**_…_ **

_Darcey Collins had left college at the tender age of eighteen with big plans to become a writer. A world renowned novelist no less. She’d vetoed her parent’s attempts to guide her towards university even though she’d had first rate offers to study English Literature from some of the most prestigious institutions in the country._

_Her mother, herself a literature buff (where else would her daughter’s name come from other than from her most treasured novel?) had wanted her only child to have the opportunities she never had. Growing up on a remote Irish dairy farm, one of six children, Darcey’s grandparents simply couldn’t afford to send their youngest daughter to university. At age nineteen she’d married Darcey’s father, himself a farmer, albeit in a much more lucrative end of the market and they’d moved across the North Sea to Cumbria in the north of England. Together they’d built up their rare breed’s farm and now supplied their meat to some of the top restaurants in the country._

_But Darcey had had no intention of going to university, nor of staying on to work at the farm. She had complete faith in herself as a writer, citing some of the greats who had never attended university and still went on to write incredible fiction. She didn’t want to spend three years bogged down by writing theses when she could be writing her name into the literary history books._

_After all, if it was good enough for Dickens and Austen, it was good enough for her!_

_But after twelve long years of knock backs, and rejection letter after rejection letter, Darcey had resigned herself to the sad reality that maybe she would never make it as a writer._

_Worse still, she realised she simply wasn’t good enough._

_Her lofty ambitions in tatters, and in a drunken state of depression on her thirtieth birthday, she’d admitted to herself that she was a complete failure as a writer and made the difficult decision to cast aside her childish dreams and aspirations and to finally get a ‘real’ job. Not the part-time one’s she’d had to take simply to be able to pay her rent up until that point._ _No. She needed a career._

_No more waitressing. No more temping._

_And no more writing…_

_After all, the way things were shaping up in the current economic climate she was going to end up working until she was nearly seventy! She might as well find a career that at least gave her some smidgen of satisfaction, not to mention some financial stability, even if it wasn’t what she’d long dreamt of._

_A year later and she’d enrolled on an undergraduate course in English at a less prestigious university than she’d had offers for in her youth. No longer were Oxford and Cambridge banging on her door. As a mature student she had to go where she could afford, or rather, where her student loans would stretch the most._

***

So here she was, just starting her final year at Leeds University, or rather, one of its satellite colleges seeing as it was much cheaper than the city centre campus.

 _Not that she minded_.

It was much smaller and less intimidating than all those big universities and she felt, for the first time in a very long time like she belonged somewhere. So much so, in fact, that she had decided she would stay on and complete a PGCE if she passed her degree.

It had taken a while to get here, but Darcey finally felt like she had some kind of real goal to aim for, all the while trying her hardest not to feel like a failure.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PGCE is a Post Graduate Certificate in Education (basically the qualification needed to gain a job as a teacher in the UK)


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

 

Darcey huffed to herself as the strap of her bag dug into her shoulder under the weight of her books. She teetered up the frosty stone steps leading into the old library, trying her best not to slip. It was the middle of October and the temperatures were already beginning to drop away to nothing.

She subconsciously smoothed down her hair and took a deep breath as she crossed the threshold, inhaling the scent of old books as she opened the door leading into the special collections archive. She glanced over at the librarian’s desk but it was empty.

Disappointed, Darcey made her way over to one of the booths and unloaded her bag, slowly spreading her lecture notes out across the creaking desk. Everything about this part of the library was old and a little dilapidated but it only made her love the building even more. She positioned her chair so that it was facing towards the librarian’s desk and began writing. Occasionally she would glance up from her work, furtively checking to see if _he_ was there…

***

 **_He_ ** _had started working in the library at the beginning of September. Darcey, had breezed into the archive after finishing up for the day at her summer job. She loved nothing more than spending her evenings immersing herself in the antique volumes held there. She’d walked up to the desk and asked for the key to the set of Thackeray letters held within the archive._

_Mrs Jenks, the doddery old librarian had pushed her half-moon glasses up her squat nose as she checked the permission slip from Darcey’s tutor and beckoned to a tall man stood with his back to them both._

_“Dear, would you be a saint and pass me the keys to the Thackeray collection for this young lady?”_

_Darcey had blushed at Mrs Jenks’ words. She was quite possibly the only person on campus who described Darcey as young but she’d take the compliment all the same. The man had searched around on the desk, seemingly looking for the keys and Darcey had begun to tap her fingers impatiently on the dark wood counter. It had been a long day at the café and the only thing that had got her through it was the promise of whiling away the remainder of her evening with the rare documents. Every minute this new guy took to find the key was a minute less she would have with them._

_“My dear. They’re in the safe remember?” Mrs Jenks had prompted the man and he had mumbled something to himself as he’d walked over to the small metal safe ensconced under the table holding the index card cabinet. Darcey had watched as he’d crouched down, his long legs getting in the way of the safe door. He’d moved into a kneeling position, leaning his head under the table as he unlocked the safe, his ass wiggling as he’d fumbled about for the key inside._

_Darcey couldn’t help but stare._

_His slim hips had moved hypnotically whilst his ass cheeks pressed firmly against the thin grey linen of the trousers he’d been wearing. It had been unseasonably warm of late, hence the lightweight garments, Yorkshire basking in a mini Indian summer._

_And Darcey had thanked the lord for that!_

_The man’s threadbare black T shirt had started to ride up his back as he’d leant further forward under the table, giving her just a hint of his pale skin, covered with a smattering of freckles._

_Darcey had stopped tapping her fingers and licked her lips, transfixed as she’d watched the man’s movements. As he’d finally found the keys he’d pulled himself back upright with ease and turned, dangling the keys triumphantly on one of his long fingers with a huge grin on his face._

_That is, until he’d seen Darcey staring at him._

_His smile had fallen immediately and a deep pink blush had begun to colour his already flustered cheeks. His eyes, obscured somewhat behind small rimless glasses, had darted away from her own and he’d practically thrown the keys at Mrs Jenks before dashing off into the office._

_While Darcey had to admit his behaviour had been strange, she’d also had to admit that she’d been fascinated by him._

_The thing was, the man was gorgeous! He was tall, much taller than Darcey, maybe six foot? And while his hips were narrow the same could not be said for his broad shoulders and chest. His sun-kissed arms revealed lean muscles. But it was his face that captivated her the most._

_His hair was a curious reddish brown, neither one colour nor the other, swept back to reveal his prominent features. His strong jaw was covered in reddish stubble and his mouth had revealed a huge toothy grin._

_That is, until he’d set eyes on her!_

_Before she’d known what was happening he’d run away, literally run._

_What the hell was that about?_

_Mrs Jenks had smiled at her as she’d held out the key “Oh don’t mind him dear. It’s his first day, I’m sure he’ll get the hang of things soon enough”_

_Darcey had nodded mutely before remembering her manners. She’d quickly, and rather squeakily thanked the older woman and beat her own hasty retreat to the relative safety of one of the study booths where she’d tried to regulate her breathing._

_She’d spent the remainder of the evening barely even looking at the rare letters, instead spying on the office in the hope the mysterious man would reappear but to no avail_.  

***

A little over a month later and here she was, yet again staring into space as she hoped for a glimpse of the handsome man who she was fast becoming obsessed with.

Despite increasing her already frequent trips to the archive she’d only seen him four times since that evening back in September. She had begun to grow paranoid that he was actively avoiding her, before chastising herself.

The man didn’t even know her. _In fact, he probably didn’t even remember her!_  Whilst they’d shared that frankly bizarre moment last month, they’d yet to come face to face again, _much less speak to one another!_

Every time Darcey had come into the library since then she’d taken a deep breath before heading over to the librarian's desk under some fabricated pretence of needing assistance. Inevitably she found herself disappointed to discover only Mrs Jenks or Kitty, the young work experience girl stood behind the counter. On the rare occasions she _had_ spotted him, he’d usually been lurking around inside the office, seemingly deep in concentration as he appeared to be cataloguing works.

Darcey sighed deeply as she tried to pull herself together. These four essays were not going to write themselves. She simply did not have time to be daydreaming about him _again_. Reluctantly, she slid her chair back around so she could no longer be tempted to watch the desk and set to work.

She did not know how long she’d been sat there, so deep in concentration was she as the words flowed onto the pages of her second essay.

A loud cough and the ringing of a bell somewhere close behind her cut through the silent air and made her jump, causing her to drop her pen, spreading ink across her page.

“Fuck!” she gasped as she grabbed the pen and inspected the damage to her essay, sighing as she realised she’d have to rewrite the entire page. If it wasn’t bad enough that Professor Russell liked to inflict tortuous amounts of coursework on her students, she also insisted that each piece of work be hand written in fountain pen and impeccably presented. Spilt ink simply wouldn’t cut it.

“Shit! I’m so sorry…” came a deep, melodious voice behind her and Darcey remembered the reason she had been startled. Swinging around angrily in her chair she stopped short as she came face to crotch with the culprit.

The man instinctively took a step backwards, his hands outstretched apologetically, allowing Darcey the time to look up and realise it was _him_.

_The enigmatic librarian._


	3. Chapter Three

** Chapter Three **

 

His cheeks immediately began to burn as he recognised her.

_Shit!_

He should have realised it was _her_   when he saw her long dark wavy hair cascading down her back, it moving softly against her back like a sheet of satin as she frantically wrote.

He’d been trying his damnedest to avoid her ever since he’d made a complete fool of himself on his first day. He'd caught her staring at him in puzzlement as he’d taken forever to retrieve a simple set of keys.

Yet avoiding her had proved to be no mean feat seeing as she seemed to live in the archive room in the evenings. He’d had to become adept at hiding at a seconds notice, slipping behind the door to the office practically every time the entrance door opened.  

But try as he might he still couldn’t get his head around the fact that _she_ had been staring at _him!_

 _Because, Christ! The woman was beautiful_.

And not in some fake ass way with tons of makeup and shit. No, she was classically beautiful.

 _Almost ethereal_.

In fact, not unlike one of the heroine’s he was so fond of from the classic novels he was writing about for his postgrad.

She had a real woman’s body, petite in stature yet curvaceous in all the right places. And she dressed like a woman. No jeans and hoodies for her like the other students. Instead, she wrapped herself up in dresses and skirts which accentuated every womanly curve.

His part time job in the library was already proving to be both a blessing and a curse. On the plus side, he earned some much need cash to supplement his dwindling savings and had ready access to all the research archives he could possibly need. Furthermore, Mrs Jenks, his boss, was an absolute dream to work for, even allowing him to work on his thesis in the office when the special collections archive was quiet.

However the downside, _and he honestly could not believe he was saying this_ , was that he was tormented on a daily basis by the sight of this woman. A woman so beautiful that he clearly did not stand a single chance with her, even _if_  he was to ever pluck up the courage to ask her out.

He laughed bitterly to himself at that notion.

_Ask her out? Dude you can’t even bloody speak to her!_

It was with that very thought in his mind that he realised he hadn’t said a damn word since he’d apologised for startling her. In fact, so in a daze was he as he replayed his foolish musings about this woman, that he hadn’t realised that she’d now stood up, all five feet nothing save for the heeled boots she was wearing, and was speaking to _him_.

He tried to drown out the sound of the blood pumping through his veins as it first pulsed noisily in his eardrums, then moved on to his cheeks which were fast beginning to burn crimson with embarrassment once more.

“…Jesus! You nearly gave me a heart attack!” the woman was panting as she pressed her delicate hand to her heaving chest.

He couldn’t help it, his eyes darted from her face down to her chest, watching transfixed as her breasts rose and fell under her ink stained digits while she struggled to regulate her breathing. He could feel his cheeks burn redder still and felt an ominous twitch in his trousers.

_Fuck!_

“I… I’m so… sorry love… _shit_ …sorry, _Miss!_ ” he stuttered as he backed away, muttering as he did so “I have to close up… you have to leave… I’m sorry…again”

And with that, he practically ran back to the safety of the counter, where he knew his burgeoning erection would be obscured and busied himself with tidying an already neat pile of research papers that he’d been asked to put to one side for a student.

He heard the sound of heels clicking against the solid wood floor towards him, and despite knowing there was absolutely no-one else it could possibly be, he couldn’t stop himself from glancing up over the thin lenses of his glasses.

 

“Goodnight!” the woman called out as she passed him, her hips swinging as she made her way towards the exit.

“Good…goodnight” he whispered, watching transfixed as the cold evening air caught her long mane of hair and whipped it up around her face as she disappeared into the night.

He sagged against the counter, finally allowing himself the breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding in and silently cursed himself.

_Fucking smooth Michael! She’ll be falling at your feet in no time!_

Little did he know that just outside, sat in her dark blue Mini, Darcey was pounding the steering wheel in frustration, thinking exactly the same thing.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bear with me... there will be much more Fassy in later chapters.


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Separate trigger warnings applied for this chapter for mentions of terminal illnesses and death.

** Chapter Four **

Darcey turned off the main road and headed down the winding country lane towards her cottage.

_Almost home._

She lived only a few miles from campus, but in the opposite direction of all the hustle and bustle of student central. The cottage was out in the sticks really. It was tiny, old, creaky and in desperate need of some TLC.

She rolled her eyes. _Just like her._

Its redeeming feature was the price. Purely _because_ of all those things she’d managed to negotiate a ludicrously cheap rent. The landlord struggled to attract tenants but it suited her perfectly. After all, the last thing she wanted was to be distracted by late night revellers coming and going in the student houses.

It was quiet out here. Peaceful.

She reached the end of the lane and pulled up alongside the front gate. Another perk of not being in the town centre, free parking. Switching off the engine, Darcey groaned loudly, her earlier encounter with the mysterious librarian still playing heavily on her mind.

She’s replayed their exchange over and over on the short journey home and she hated to admit it but she was beginning to get the awful feeling that he disliked her for some reason. She tried to think what on earth she could have done to him.

She knew what she’d _like_ to do to him…

 _Stop it!_   She warned herself.

But seriously, why was he so repelled by her? She knew she wasn’t supermodel material or anything but she wasn’t ugly. Okay, so she was older than most of the crowd who came into the library but it wasn’t as if he was some spring chicken himself!

 _Fuck him!_   She groaned again as she grabbed her things and stepped out into the darkness, making her way up the old cobbled pathway and through her front door.

 _It was his damn loss!_ She couldn’t help but laugh at herself for that.

_Yeah. Okay Darcey. Keep telling yourself that honey! You just know you’ll be back there next week, hoping for another glimpse of him!_

She dropped her things on the kitchen table, poured herself a large glass of red wine and headed straight upstairs.

Bath, book and bed. Yes, Darcey really was living the life.

*

Michael straddled his motorbike, turned the ignition and gripped the handlebars as it purred to life.

_Damn it!_

He was still exasperated with himself. Tonight had been his perfect chance. She’d been there. _Right there_. Right in front of him. He’d watched her scribbling away, as he hid behind the bookcases. The library had slowly emptied and by 7pm it had been deserted, it being Friday and all. Even Mrs Jenks, or Madeline as she now insisted he call her, had left early. Fridays were her date night with her husband Ted and who was Michael to stand in the way of loves young dream!

 _Christ!_ _Madeline was getting more than him!_

He shuddered at the thought. _No. Not going there. Think of something else... Anything else!_

The woman.

 _Fuck!_ Anything else than her when he was trying to concentrate on the road. But it was no good. She pervaded his mind like a virus. Every synapse sent snapshots of her eyes, her lips, her hips as she moved, her heaving breasts as she panted for breathe.

Michael gripped the handlebars tighter and growled under his breathe with frustration. He hadn’t always been this hesitant around women…

***

_Michael, or Mike as he’d been known back then had been quite the town stud in his youth. He’d always had the pick of the girls and while he’d never been a player, preferring monogamy, he’d also never come close to anything resembling a serious relationship._

_That is until Laura._

_She had literally took his breathe away the first time he’d met her. Long, dark hair, bright blue eyes and curves in all the right places. Laura was wild, carefree and drop dead gorgeous. She’d swept into his parents restaurant where he’d been working over Christmas and winked at him across the bar. He had been nineteen at the time, still full of raging hormones and with one lick of her ruby red lips and a nod towards the restrooms he’d been hooked. Mike had dropped his acting classes three weeks later and followed her half way across the world. For nearly two years they’d been inseparable, travelling from country to country, living only for the moment._

_That is until she became ill._

_It all started when they’d spent three days travelling on a fishing boat to the Tanintharyi region of Myanmar. Laura has vomited constantly. She’d kept telling him she was just sea sick but he’d known it was something more. He’d felt it in his gut. They’d been on many boats on their travels and despite choppy waters she’d never even looked queasy, let alone vomited._

_She’d laid on the makeshift hammock, her skin pallid and beaded with sweat and a thought had suddenly come to him._

_Maybe she was pregnant..._

_His own stomach had somersaulted at the thought. Sure, they were both young, probably too young if he was totally honest. But there was no doubting their love for one another._

_Or so he thought._

_When he’d put the question to her, giddy hope beginning to bloom inside his trusting heart, she’d let out a lamentable wail and begun weeping._

_Over the next hour or so the truth had come out. How Laura had been diagnosed with terminal cancer two days before she’d walked into the bar in Killarney. How, after spending an entire day sobbing into her pillow, no immediate family to comfort her, she’d decided she wasn’t going to simply give in to the disease. How she’d decided to travel the world, live every moment that remained of her pitifully short life. Whether that be a couple of months or a year. And then she’d met Mike. Sweet, kind, trusting Mike. And he’d known her only for her._

_Not her disease._

_He’d made her feel alive. Unstoppable. Indestructible._

_When they’d started to travel she’d intended to tell him. But he’d been so full of joy. So happy. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing him, she’d explained. Because, deep down, she’d known if she had told him he would have begged her to return to Ireland. Begged her to undergo treatments which would have only prolonged the inevitable and would have probably made her sicker than she actually felt from the few side effects of the disease. And there was no way she was going to go out like that. _And the days had turned into months and before she knew it she was close to reaching the two year milestone.__

_Mike had listened in stony silence, feeling the bottom slowly fall out of his world as he realised the last two years had been built completely on subterfuge. His square jaw had set into a frown as he desperately bit back the words he wanted to say. He hadn’t trusted himself to speak. His mind had swung from anger, to fear, to desperation, to an overwhelming sense of loss as he’d realised she was going to leave him soon._

_The woman he loved was dying._

_And at that realisation his tears had started to fall. Cascading down his strong face as it crumpled, leaving salty tracks in their wake. Laura had held out a shaking hand to his stubbled jaw and attempted to wipe them away, only for more to immediately appear._

_She’d admitted to researching places with the best black markets in drugs, herbal remedies and non-traditional palliative care to ease the symptoms and reduce the side effects as her body had slowly begun to lose its battle with the disease. As Mike had listened to her confession, he’d started to remember things that had struck him as slightly odd at the time but had shrugged off as just ‘Laura being Laura’. All the times when she’d snuck off, explaining it away as fact finding missions and returning _with little presents_. How she was obsessed with taking her ‘vitamins’ and panicked if she missed a dose._

_He’d wiped his eyes and allowed himself to truly look at her as she lay on the hammock, realising how frail she’d become. When had she lost her curves? When had the sparkle left her eyes and when had her glorious mane of hair lost its gloss? Was it just days ago when they’d stepped on this Godforsaken boat? Or had she been wasting away right before his eyes?_

_And what kind of man did that make him?_

_A fool?_

_How could he not know, not see what was now right before his eyes? Sure, she had lied. But he’d been blind. Or stupid._

_But despite all those unanswered questions and doubts he loved her. And she was dying right in front of him._

_That night he’d held her hand, whispering sweet nothings as she'd slowly drifted into unconsciousness. Her passing had been mercifully quick. It seemed almost as if, with her secret finally in the open, she gave up fighting it._

_The funeral had taken place a week later. Just a few distant relatives, who, just like him, had known nothing._

_The months that followed damn near killed him. He hadn’t had time to even truly process her confession before she’d passed and his heart had been torn into pieces. On one hand he was mourning the loss of his beloved Laura, whilst on the other hand he seethed with hatred at her deception._

_Over time he’d slowly forgiven her duplicity. He tried to remind himself that she was a good woman. A beautiful, strong woman who left this life on her own terms. He tried to remember the good times. The people they’d met on their travels. The laughter they’d shared. But at the same time he vowed never to put himself in the same position again. He might have forgiven Laura but he would never forget._

__He would never allow himself to feel pain like that ever again._ _

__It was better this way. If he didn’t allow himself to love again, his heart could never be broken so cruelly when it inevitably ended…_ _

 

_And so, slowly Mike had transitioned into Michael. Solitary, guarded Michael. His confidence and trust in tatters. Over the years he’d avoided women, confining himself to books and motorbikes. He’d returned to Killarney briefly but the memory of his and Laura’s first meeting haunted him and with a heavy heart he’d bid farewell to his family and headed across the North Sea to England. A few lost years followed, with casual work in bars, before he realised that just because he had sworn off women it didn’t mean he shouldn’t make a life for himself._

_He’d enrolled in the Open University, studying from home for his degree at weekends and whenever he wasn’t working. It had been a long slog but it had been worth it. He almost felt like himself again, whoever that was and graduated with a First in English Literature._

_Now, a year later, he’d enrolled at Leeds University to begin his Master’s degree_.

***

And his plan not to be distracted by women had remained intact. That is until the day _that_   woman had set foot in the library.

He drove into the car park of his block of flats and, once parked, pulled off his helmet with a deep sigh. The cold air stung his cheeks and shocked, he raised his hand to them only to find them wet with tears. Shaking his head sadly he climbed the stairs to his small flat. He headed straight to the kitchen, grabbed the bottle of Jameson whiskey and some ice and filled a tumbler, downing the entire contents in one deep gulp as he attempted to block out the painful memories, before refilling the glass.

_It had been a long time since he’d allowed himself to think of her._

Michael cradled the whiskey as he headed to the bedroom before stripping off and slipping into bed. As he leaned back against the pillows, swirling the contents of his glass, he listened to the ice as it clinked against the edges and allowed his mind to wander once more.

He sighed. A desperate, tormented sigh. He downed the remaining whiskey just as sleep began to overcome him. His last thought as he drifted into the inky darkness of slumber was _her_.

_Not Laura._

_No. The face that came to him was that of the woman from the library._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to amp up the feels you might want to listen to James Morrison's 'Broken Strings' https://youtu.be/26PAgklYYvo when you've finished. Or maybe not... :'(
> 
> * The Open University is a way of studying for a variety of qualifications from home.
> 
> Sorry this has taken so long to update...


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been just over a week since the awkward encounter in the library...

** Chapter Five **

Darcey gathered up her long skirt and climbed the ornate staircase. She wasn’t taking any chances. Her heels were already making her unstable. Factor in the three glasses of wine she’d already consumed and she found herself swaying ominously.

Reaching the top, she attempted to steady herself and leaned forward over the handrail, surveying the crowd below as she searched for her so called friend. Amy had told her she was just nipping to the bar. Darcey checked her watch again. That was over half an hour ago. She was beginning to think she might have been ditched _again_. She loved her friend dearly but this was not the first time Amy had dragged her out on the pretence of a girly night out only to find herself abandoned in favour of a man.

Scouring the crowd she groaned with frustration as she finally spotted Amy, obscured somewhat under the recess of the grand staircase below. It was her tail which Darcey spotted first. Followed by the Swarovski crystal collar glittering as it reflected the disco lights. Superman, _no less_ , had her leant backwards in his embrace, her face pointing upwards as he lavished her throat, _amongst other things_ , with hungry kisses. Through her Catwoman mask, Amy’s eyes blinked open and connected with Darcey’s. She winked up at her before shrugging her shoulders apologetically.

_Perfect!_

Here she was, dressed up in this ridiculously uncomfortable costume which she could barely breathe in, surrounded by revellers almost half her age. She huffed, knowing she already stuck out like a sore thumb. The other party goers were wearing skimpy variations of witch and vampire costumes. The kind that were ten a penny and which left very little to the imagination.

_It wasn’t quite the event Amy had portrayed it to be._

When Amy had persuaded Darcey to come to the Halloween masquerade ball she’d groaned and shook her head until Amy had tempted her with the suggestion of dressing as one of her favourite literary heroines.

_Ball gowns and dancing?_

Amy, her colleague at the café, born and raised in Leeds, had been coming to the Halloween ball for several years. She’d enthusiastically described how the Corn Exchange building was magically transformed into a party venue with the basement converted into a dance floor and the Victorian architecture decorated lavishly to fit the occasion.  

_Well, when she put it like that how could Darcey possible refuse?_

On a romantic whim she’d acquiesced. It was rare for Darcey to go out, let alone get all dressed up for something as opulent as a ball. But it sounded magical.

Yet finding a costume that both fit her generous curves and the Halloween brief had proved to be a bone of contention between the two friends. Amy insisted on dragging her to fancy dress shop after fancy dress shop, where every costume was tiny and, _if she was being completely honest_ , a bit cheap looking. At the last moment Darcey had jokingly suggested she dress as Shakespeare's Juliet. After all _she’d_ met her Romeo at a masquerade ball.

 _And Amy had mentioned there would be a balcony…_ she thought dreamily. 

Amy's sigh of frustration had been enough for Darcey to dig her heels in. _So what if she wasn't some young girl?_ Why should the kids have all the bloody fun! _And so what if she was hardly virginal?_ Darcey argued to herself that after four long years of involuntary celibacy she may as well be!

So here she stood, squeezed into the tightest white corseted bodice, her ample breasts straining against the thin fabric as she tried not to snag her 4 inch red stiletto heels ( _another acquiescence to Amy_ ) in the gossamer layers of her full skirt. A ruby red smear covered the pale skin of her décolleté where, in a sigh of resignation, Amy had poured a vial of fake blood, reminding Darcey that it was, after all, a Halloween party. And to complete the effect, Amy had tucked a dagger in between the intricately laced corset.

_Yeah, because everybody understood the reference now!_

She’d been asked if she was the Corpse Bride, a ghost and one guy even asked if she was Miss Haversham! Amy had swiftly taken the dagger off her before there had been quite literally murder on the dance floor! 

_Bloody philistines!_

Still leaning over the balcony, Darcey rolled her eyes at the memory and felt a rush of blood to her head, dizziness swiftly following. Leaning back, she tried to grip the handrail tighter. But her shaking hands, suddenly hot and clammy could no longer find purchase and the ornate ironwork slipped through her fingers as if it was invisible.

Her body felt like lead as she fell backwards towards the steep steps of the staircase and despite opening her mouth to scream she heard nothing as she succumbed to the darkness.

*

Michael watched the whole thing unfold in horror.

_He’d been sipping on a decidedly poor blend of whiskey, wondering how the hell he’d been talked into coming here tonight. Despite his outward demeanour he wasn’t a party pooper by any stroke of the imagination, but the truth was, the party sucked._

_Kitty had dragged him along straight from work, hence the hastily assembled Batman costume consisting of his black motorcycle leathers, a black sheet fashioned as a cape and the cheap plastic Batman mask Kitty had stolen from her younger brother._

_What Kitty had failed to mention when she’d hijacked him after work was that she was meeting her friends and boyfriend at the party._

_Not that he was interested in his younger colleague. Sure, she was a sweet girl, and they had a laugh when they were working together. But she was only twenty one. The same age he had been when Laura had left him. He felt like he’d lived a lifetime since then. Not that he had to worry about Kitty. She clearly wasn’t interested in him, judging by the way she was snogging the face off her boyfriend right now._

_Jesus. Get a fucking room!_

_And besides, Michael had sworn off women, remember?_

So here he stood, solitarily nursing his crappy whiskey whilst leaning against the balcony railing and taking in the milieu, when something caught his eye.

_Or rather someone._

A woman stood with her back to him just across the landing, leaning precariously over the balcony seemingly in search of someone. Unlike the other partygoers she was dressed conservatively in a long white evening gown. However the cut was far from demure, the diaphanous fabric cinched tightly at her small waist before flowing over the generous curve of her hips. As she leant further forward in her quest, the delicate folds of fabric shifted, hitting the light in such a way as to clearly define the rounded globes of her ass.

Michael took a sharp intake of breath and groaned. His eyesight, sans glasses, wasn’t the best close up but the distance lended itself well enough and as such he was able to follow her movements from behind the safety of his mask. There was something oddly familiar about her and despite his vow he found himself creeping a little closer to try to get a look at her face.

Mesmerised as he was, his eyes trailed down her body, over that glorious ass which seemed both a revelation and yet so comfortingly familiar. Michael blinked his eyes, trying to make sense of the vision.

Could it be possible that it was _her_?

Her ghostly pale appearance seemed apparition like and as his gaze fell to her feet he gasped on noticing the ruby red stilettos.

_Red had always been her favourite colour._

What was this madness?

Michael shook his head, trying to clear the fog which seemed to have enveloped his mind and glanced down at the drink in his hand. _How many had he had?_   He’d stopped counting after the fourth. Maybe it was time to call it a night? He must be hallucinating. That’ll teach him to save money by drinking the cheap stuff!

He sighed heavily and wiped a hand over the stubble of his jaw in contemplation. He needed to pull himself together.

_And he needed to get the hell out of here._

He had just about gathered what remained of his wits in his drunken state when he noticed the apparition’s body slowly straighten up as it pulled back from the balcony.

He watched, transfixed as it wavered, first left and then right and before he could truly register that it was not in fact an apparition but a living, breathing woman he noticed its fingers let go of the handrail.

Instinct took over.

He fought through his drunken haze and sprinted the short distance, sliding to his knees and catching her head in his lap just before it hit the floor. A breathy moan escaped the woman’s full lips as she slumped, unconscious. He had to blink as he refocused and found himself staring down into glassy eyes.

The eyes of the woman from the library.

 

_Just to give you some idea of what the Corn Exchange looks like. The staircase I refer to is the one at the rear (Oh, and the ball is a work of fiction by the way. It's actually a shopping centre!)_

_When I think of Darcey this is who I think of..._

_And well, for reasons I really shouldn't need to explain..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I had hoped to have had this up on Saturday but, well real life has a way of saying otherwise) 
> 
> Still, thanks for reading :)


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Ball continues...

** Chapter Six **

Darcey’s eyelids fluttered as she tried to focus. There were flashing lights overhead, not particularly bright, but emitting enough light that she could make out something partially obscuring them. She could hear muffled noises around her and began to panic, unable to remember where she was. She tried to move but her body felt cold and stiff yet her head seemed warm and, strangely, cushioned by something.

She was vaguely aware of pins and needles beginning to tingle throughout her limbs and blinked her eyelids closed, letting out a tiny gasp of air as she began to tremble, a chill beginning to overwhelm her.

“Hey… can you hear me? Are you okay?”

The enquiring voice made Darcey open her eyes again and she struggled to focus on where it was coming from. She tried to move but something, _or someone_ stopped her.

“Erm… best not to move…not just yet”

“Ww… wh… at… tt? Ww... wh… ere…am… I?” her teeth chattered as she tried to formulate words.

“Shh... shush” the kindly voice soothed hesitantly “You’re at the party… erm… I mean the erm… the ball… thing. _I think_ … well… that’s to say… _it looked like..._ you…erm… fainted?”

Her head shifted slightly and before she realised what was happening she felt her body being lifted effortlessly and engulfed in something warm before being lowered again.

"There... is that better?"

Darcey blinked, at last being able to focus on her surroundings and snorted with nervous laughter as her eyes finally took in the owner of the voice. It was a dream. _It had to be a dream_ …

_She was bloody well staring up into the face of Batman!_

For his part, Batman’s jaw clenched into a frown. Darcey, now beginning to feel a little more lucid, gawped at the strong jawline, watching as a nerve ticked, as Batman _…_ she giggled again _…_ sorry, _he_ … … clenched it. Despite her peculiar predicament Darcey couldn’t help but lick her lips as she took in the angular set of his jaw, the way it was covered by fine reddish stubble and the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed heavily.

She let out another breathy sigh and a tiny groan escaped alongside it, making her cheeks flush with embarrassment.

 _Four years_.

Four _long_ years without being anywhere near this close to a man.

“Well then… you appear… erm… to be… ahem... just fine” the man muttered uncomfortably and Darcey stopped staring at his jaw and tried to move her head up higher, trying to search out his eyes. It was only then, as she pulled her head up and scoured her surroundings that she realised that she was lay across his lap, on a bench in the corner of the secluded balcony, swathed in his cape.

She _should_ have been alarmed. She’d just fainted after all. And she was clearly in a vulnerable state as she lay with her head cradled in a strange man’s crotch. Her common sense was screaming at her to get out of there immediately. Yet her gut was telling her she was in no danger whatsoever and in fact was begging her to stay.   

 _Was she just delirious or was this man familiar to her?_  

She recognised his voice from somewhere. She was certain of it. She bit her lip deep in thought and tried again to angle her head to get a better look at his face. _Damn it! If only he wasn’t wearing that bloody mask! And if only her mind wasn’t still so fuzzy…_

Meanwhile Michael sat, his crotch beginning to twitch ominously as the woman continued to wriggle her head about against his lap.

 _Jesus! It was bad enough that she kept breathing so fucking erotically_.

When she started with the lip licking he thought _he_ was going to pass out! This was dangerous. Every fibre of his being was telling him to run. This was not going to end well.

_This woman oozed temptation._

Michael was no fool. He already knew she was way out of his league. He’d seen that on a daily basis as she sashayed around the library. Men’s, _and women’s_ , eyes all followed her as she walked in those high heels she was so fond of. She was, by a country mile, the most glamorous student that set foot in the tired old research building. While the other students wore jeans and leggings or whatever else was the latest fashion, this woman, _this glorious woman_ , stuck to a wardrobe of classic styles which accentuated every magnificent curve of her body.

Not that she seemed to be aware of it. She was by no means arrogant. He’d even go as far as to say she seemed oblivious to the effect she had on everyone.

He took a heavy, ragged breath as he tried his best to compose himself. He glanced down and immediately regretted doing so as he found her staring back up, her big brown eyes looking directly into his own inquisitively.

No scrap of lace across her face could’ve disguise those eyes, even before she’d pushed at the flimsy mask as she’d come around from her swoon.

She batted her lashes before licking her plump red lips again and he couldn’t help it. The cheap alcohol was still coursing through his veins. He let out a deep, animalistic groan and clenched his jaw even tighter as he imagined what they would feel like pressed against his own. How good they would taste. _How that pink tongue would feel,_ licking _him_ instead _…_ He closed his eyes, trying to compose himself.

_Fuck Michael! This woman just fainted for God’s sake!_

He _should_   be seeing if she needed to see a doctor, or finding who she had come with, or at the very least be calling her a taxi, he chastised himself. He was subconsciously tensing his fists by his sides to stop himself from touching the mass of dark wavy hair which had spread out so temptingly across his thighs.

Her weight shifted again and he bit his own lip, save he let anything more slip of his filthy inclination. 

_But what happened next shocked him to the core._

He felt something pull at his neck and then the tentative pressure of lips on lips. His eyes shot open in surprise and he gasped for air as he came masked nose to nose with the bewitching woman, her lips still lightly brushing his own as she moved so that she was now crouched alongside him on the bench, her earlier malady all but forgotten.

Their hot breath mingled and, intoxicated by her heady air, Michael lost his mind for a moment, pulling her forcefully towards him. His movement was met with no resistance. In fact, she went so far as to straddle his lap, settling herself in such a manner that it made Michael let out a low hiss and involuntarily buck his hips.

The woman’s response was to crash her lips against his again as she plundered his mouth, her tongue sucking and massaging his own so expertly as to leave him under no illusion as to her carnal talents. Her hands, having been wrapped around the base of his neck as she’d coaxed his lips towards her mouth, now dropped to his shoulders where they clung on to him desperately.

Michael’s hands, having been resting timidly alongside each of her voluptuous hips, instinctively smoothed over the flimsy fabric of her dress and gripped her ass as he moaned against her gifted lips.

_It had been so long. So damn long..._

As she continued to torment him with her wanton mouth he dug his fingers deeper into her pliant flesh and relished the warmth of her heated skin as it penetrated his fingertips and flooded throughout his bloodstream sending him almost delirious with long pent up desire.

Darcey let out a low groan as he squeezed her ass, massaging the rondure like a man possessed. She withdrew her tongue, taking in some much needed air whilst allowing herself time to focus on this moment of exquisite pleasure. At the same time she couldn’t help but delight in the man’s obvious disappointment at her cessation as he let out a frustrated growl.

_That is, until his hands slackened somewhat._

Whether he did this intentionally or not, we will never know as Darcey didn’t wait to find out. Desperate to feel his big, strong hands cup her so confidently again she wrapped her lips around his bottom lip, sucking and nipping on it in such a fashion as to make him resume his earlier embrace.

His nimble fingers pinched and squeezed her ass, pressing Darcey’s core determinedly against his impressive hardness. Her body responded in kind, the diaphanous fabric offering little barrier to the delicious friction she felt as she rubbed herself so shamelessly against him.

_Bloody hell! She was horny!_

_She hadn’t realised she was **this** desperate until the opportunity had presented itself to her. And although the man had initially seemed somewhat hesitant, he now appeared to be enjoying himself just as much, if not more, judging by the throbbing erection she could now clearly feel pressing between her quivering thighs. The soft black leather which encased him only served to add another frisson of excitement to the proceedings._

_For a millisecond she hesitated. Was she really doing this? Darcey had never been one for casual relationships, much less random hook ups with men whose name she didn’t even know!_

But despite what was left of the sensible part of her brain telling her this was not going to end well, she was buoyed on by the alcohol she had consumed earlier and the fanciful notion of being rescued by her knight in shining… _well... Batman costume._

With the decision made that she would take this as far as the man writhing underneath her was willing to go, she released his swollen lip with a pop and took a deep, restorative stretch, unwittingly thrusting out her chest in the process.

Michael’s eyes flickered open, the loss of the enchantresses’ lips on his own momentarily breaking the spell she’d cast over him. That is, until his eyes feasted on the sight in front of him.

Her heaving fake blood stained breasts, mere inches from his mouth, were dangerously close to spilling out of the corseted bodice, having been pushed up as she’d stretched. Meanwhile, the tell-tale rosy pink hue of one of her pert nipples pointed teasingly at him, obscenely begging for his attention.

With only the merest hint of hesitation Michael licked his lips and buried his head in her bosom. He lavished the silky soft skin with butterfly kisses before he moved his attention to the perky nipple which had now wriggled free as its owner panted for breath. Michael ran his tongue languidly around the hardening bud, before wrapping it in his lips and sucking greedily until it was painfully taut, his stubble adding another sensation to the mix. This prompted an arousing moan from the woman which went straight to his throbbing cock.

The woman’s hands gripped his shoulders, anchoring him in place as he continued to nuzzle at her cleavage, breathing in her heady scent. Intoxicated by her, all his senses went into overdrive and his fingers dug tighter still into the cheeks of her ass, eliciting a yelp from her and a gasp of air for himself.

“F… fuck… so… sorry…” he stuttered, immediately releasing his hands as his cheeks flamed bright red at his overzealous caresses.

“Don’t be… I…I… liked it…” she whispered, surprising them both with her revelation. They stared into one another’s eyes for what seemed like minutes but which was more likely only mere moments, such was the intensity shared between them.

As their eyes bore into one another, the woman bit her lip and moved one of her hands from Michael’s shoulder to pull at the ribbon tying her already skew-whiff lace mask. With a flourish she removed it from her flushed face, and dropped it coquettishly on the floor, raising an eyebrow and nodding towards Michael’s Batman mask in invitation.

“Your turn…” she giggled, batting her eyelashes teasingly.

And all at once Michael came to his senses. Under the anonymity of his mask he’d been bold, confident and more open to desire than he had been for many, many years. The weight of his emotional burden had lifted, and he’d almost felt like he’d been set free.

But at the thought of removing the mask, he couldn’t help but remember the way this woman had looked at him in the library. The almost pitying stares she’d given him as he’d hopelessly made a fool of himself, not once now, but twice.

He would inevitably be a disappointment to her if he was to reveal his true identity. And what remained of his pride could not allow that. Better that he leave now with at least the memory of her impassioned lips on his to cherish before she could make some feeble excuse as to why she couldn’t continue.

And even _if_ she wasn’t to immediately flee, the alternatives were just as unbearable. In the _unlikely_ event that she wasn’t immediately repulsed by him what would happen afterwards? Would she reject him and pretend it never happened? Or even worse, would this woman grow to love him and him her, only to tear his heart into pieces with some deception as _she_ did all those years ago?

 _No_. Whatever the outcome it would be _his_ already fragile heart that would suffer most and he couldn’t risk that again.

 _Not for anyone_.

With his mind set he lifted her off of him, and, ignoring the insistently painful throb of his erection, placed her down gently alongside him. She watched transfixed as he stood, his tall frame looming over her flushed body for a moment before he shook his head sadly and turned on his heel and ran.

The last thing he heard as he made his way towards the exit was her gasp of shock over the distant opening notes of Blondie’s ‘ _[Rapture](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pHCdS7O248g)_ ’.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry... so, so, sorry!


	7. Chapter Seven

** Chapter Seven **

 

Darcey sat, completely gobsmacked and feeling more than a little frustrated as she watched the man run, _literally fucking run_ , away.

What the ever loving hell had just happened?

One minute the guy had been groping her ass with his head buried between her boobs and the next he’d legged it.

Scarpered… _What. The. Actual. Fuck?!_

Anger and humiliation began to course through her veins as Darcey relived the liaison. She tried to think where the hell she’d gone wrong. Had she come on too strong? _Well, fuck. Yes… probably!_ _Four years people!_ But it wasn’t as if the man had been some unwilling bystander. _He’d certainly given just as good as he’d got!_ She moaned as she involuntarily clenched at the memory of him grinding himself against her. That man was definitely _gifted_ , there could be no denying.

She slammed her fist down hard on the bench and cursed under her breath as pain shot through her wrist. _Four fucking years God damnit!_

Huffing loudly, she felt angry tears begin to prickle at her eyes and stubbornly wiped them away. _No way was she going to give that bloody tease the satisfaction of crying over him._

_Even if he had rescued her._

Even though, _she groaned at the thought_ , he’d nursed her as she’d recovered from fainting.

_Fuck, even if he’d kissed her more passionately in those fleeting moments than any one of her previous boyfriends._

She shook her head.

It was just the alcohol, she told herself firmly. _And you’re not yourself_ , she reminded herself. _You just fainted woman! It was time to get your sorry ass home and sleep whatever this madness was off._

It was as she resolutely pulled herself upright, humiliation once again overwhelming her as she embarrassedly righted the bodice of her dress, that she noticed the black sheet strewn across the end of the bench.

_Well fuck him! And fuck his sheet!_

She sighed as she started to walk, stubbornly raising her chin in a dignified stance, not realising the hem of the aforementioned sheet was caught on the heel of her stiletto.

She still felt a little wobbly as she made her way the short distance back over towards the staircase and even though it killed her to admit it, she knew it had little to do with her earlier fainting spell. Her legs felt like they were wading through treacle and her body was aching to be touched again.

_Damn him!_

It had been the first time in such a long time that she’d actually felt alive. Her monotonous schedule left her effectively going through the same laborious motions day after day. _Eat, Study, Work, Library, Repeat._

At the thought of the library she suddenly felt a little guilty. For all these weeks she’d been caught up in her little fantasy world with the enigmatic librarian and schemes of how she could get to know him a little better. Yet here she was, practically in tears over some dickhead dressed in a Batman costume who she’d been ready to sleep with after a couple of minutes!

_She didn’t even bloody like Batman for goodness sake!_

She’d been much more of a Superman fan as a child, pretending she was Lois Lane as she sat writing in her journals.

Darcey rubbed her temples as she moved to take the final few steps to the balcony, trying to shake all thoughts of men from her mind. _See_. _This was why she was better off single_ she reminded herself. Men were more trouble than they were worth!

She still hadn’t noticed the long sheet trailing behind her, dismissing the weight in her foggy brain as just being a consequence of her tired limbs.

So it came as quite a shock when the security guard, doing his routine sweep of the area, tapped her on the shoulder and bundled the article into her arms, pointing at her heel with a raised eyebrow.

“Watch yourself Miss. We don’t want any accidents now, do we?”

Darcey looked down and noticing the way her heel was caught, freed the offending article. Before she could reply the guard was off again, leaving her holding the sheet and once again cursing that damn man.

Yet she couldn’t help but draw it towards her as she buried her face into the cool cotton folds and inhaled deeply. Jesus, it even smelt like him. Her heart began to race as she closed her eyes and allowed his intoxicating scent to pervade her mind. Flashback memories of his lips, his tongue, his hands and that strong jaw played with her resolve and she gasped as she felt moisture beginning to pool once more between her thighs.

 _No. Enough!_ She scolded herself, reluctantly lowering the last link to him away from her face, but still gripping it fiercely as she stared over the balcony in search of her friend. Of course there was absolutely no sign of her. Amy was probably long gone with _her_ man.

 _See…_ Darcey reminded herself, _you can always rely on Superman…_

With a lamentable laugh she made her way towards the same exit Batman had run towards earlier with a pain in her heart that she couldn’t quite justify.

 *

Michael kept running until his lungs hurt and his muscles burnt from the lactic acid build up. He staggered to a halt on the outskirts of the city, not even sure if he had been heading in the right direction, such had been his desperate need to flee.

She’d overwhelmed his senses, bewitched him and he’d almost forgotten himself. More importantly, he’d almost forgotten the reason for his self-enforced exile from women.

_Almost…_

However much he tried _she_ was always there. Like a spectre with her ghostly claws hooked into his psyche. Killing any hope of future happiness with her cruel manipulation and lies.

Deep down he _knew_ he was being unfair. Laura had not been a bad person. She had been a good woman. Beautiful, kind, vivacious and carefree. But a part of him had died when she’d confessed her secret.

He could not… _No. He would not_ put himself in that position again. No woman was worth that much pain.

Not even this woman whom he’d just run away from.

He wiped the sweat from his brow and looked around, eventually spotting a road sign. Horsforth 4 Miles. _Well thank God for small mercies!_ He was at least headed in the right direction. He started to walk. The late October chilly air would do him good. Maybe cool his ardour once and for all and temper his racing mind.

*

Darcey climbed into the cab.

She rolled her eyes as the cab drove through the deserted streets. Sighing to herself she rested her head wearily against the seat and shivered. It was getting colder every day. She wouldn’t be surprised if it snowed before long. Reluctantly she pulled the black sheet over her exposed body, welcoming its relative warmth.

The taxi driver chattered away to her but she was in no mood for banal small talk and after several muttered responses he gave up and switched on the radio. Amy Winehouse’s ‘[‘Tears Dry On Their Own’](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ojdbDYahiCQ)’ filled the confined space.

 _Taxi for one._ _With the wonderfully uplifting, spiritual guidance of Miss Amy Winehouse?_

_Really?_

Darcey rolled her eyes to the heavens in self-pity. _Was she on candid fucking camera or something right now?_ She buried her head under the sheet in a vain attempt to muffle the sound of the song but the lyrics easily filtered through the cotton.

 _"...I shouldn't play myself again,_  
_I should just be my own best friend,_  
_Not fuck myself in the head with stupid men._

 _He walks away,_  
_The sun goes down,_  
_He takes the day_  
_But I'm grown,_  
_And in your way,_  
_In this blue shade_  
_My tears dry on their own."_

“Right love”

The taxi driver’s voice startled Darcey and she jumped. Lowering the sheet she looked around and realised they were parked outside her cottage. She sniffed, suddenly conscious of the tears pouring down her face and wiped at them fiercely.

Quickly paying the driver she made her way inside, pulling off those damn stilettos and heading straight up the stairs to her bedroom. She yanked angrily at the tight bodice of her dress, heaving a sigh of relief as her body was finally freed from its prison. Pulling on an oversized T shirt she crawled into bed, holding the bunched up black sheet to her chest and nuzzling her nose against it, subconsciously invoking the man’s spirit in her bed.

She was suddenly overwhelmingly tired.

_Tired of tonight. Tired of being hurt. Tired of being alone._

_Tired of her entire existence if she was being brutally honest_. For that’s all it was. She wasn’t living. She was just existing.

And in that moment she made her decision. No longer was she going to be a mere bystander to her destiny. If she was _ever_ to find the happiness that deep down she knew she deserved she was going to have to go out there and grab it.

With her decision made she let out a deep breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding in and closed her eyes, losing herself in the scent from the sheet.

Fretful dreams followed. Of sexy men dressed as Batman whose kisses tasted sinfully good. And of handsome but bashful librarians.

_Both of which kept running away…_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who's commented and left kudos so far. It means so much <3


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcey sets the wheels in motion...

** Chapter Eight **

 

Monday morning dawned bright and clear.

The cold front which had been lingering over the weekend seemed to have passed and, if it had not been for the frosted spider webs in the tiny cottage garden, Darcey might just have mistaken the scene for a warm spring morning.

As it was, she loaded up her car, shivering as the chilly air caused goose flesh on her bare arms. _Okay. It was definitely November, not April. Better grab that cardigan after all._

Still, she didn’t let the weather dampen her enthusiasm. Today she was going to start putting her plan into action. _She would be the mistress of her own destiny_. With a grin she climbed behind the wheel of her little mini and turned on the ignition. As she drove the short distance to the university she mulled over her strategy.

First things first, she was going to find out the librarian’s name. It had occurred to her as she’d meticulously made plans last night that she didn’t even know that simple detail.

_Surely quite an important detail!_

How she would go about doing this she was still to work out but if she was to get anywhere with her plan, that had to be the first thing she marked off her list.

Unfortunately, despite her positive outlook the day dragged on and on. Lectures were uninspiring, she forgot her lunch and her shift at the café was hectic, leaving her frazzled by closing time. What she really wanted to do when she finally left work was to head straight home and have a good long soak in the bath, maybe even a glass of wine.

But with a resolute air she pulled into the car park of the library and grabbed her things. Checking her make up in the rear-view mirror she took a deep breath and steadied her nerves.

“Nothing ventured, nothing gained” she whispered to herself as she walked up the steps and through the creaking door into the library.

*

Michael sneezed and coughed hoarsely, groaning into his pillow.

_That’d teach him._

In hindsight, walking the four and a bit miles back to his flat in sub-zero temperatures hadn’t been his brightest idea.

 _Hindsight can be a bitch sometimes_ he groaned.

He’d known something was wrong as soon as he’d woken on the Sunday morning. Every single muscle in his body ached. Michael liked to think he was a fit guy for his thirty five years. He worked out every day and ate relatively well.

 _Okay, so maybe he could drink a little less… and_ _he really should cut out the cigarettes he sometimes succumbed to when he’d had a drink_ …

But still, he was shocked to wake up feeling like he’d done twelve rounds with Mike Tyson after walking less than five miles.

At first he put it down to the crappy whiskey he’d drank at the party. It really had been a terrible blend. But once his lingering hangover had dissipated he realised he didn’t feel any better and by late Sunday night he’d started with the sniffles and a sore throat.

 _Great. If he wasn’t feeling bad enough for running out without any explanation from that gorgeous woman now he was sick as well?_ He couldn’t help but wonder if this was some divine payback for messing with her mind.

He spent a feverish night, coughing and spluttering as he alternated between a raging fever and trembling shakes. His temperature spiked at 102 and feeling so ill and alone he contemplated ringing for an ambulance, but feeling foolish he reconsidered and instead rang the one person he knew was always there for him when he was ill.

“Hello..?” the groggy voice answered the phone.

“Mum…” he croaked out hoarsely and coughed, attempting to clear his throat.

“Is that you Michael? What time is it..?” Michael could hear fumbling and a curse as his mum obviously saw the time.

“Are you okay?” her voice had a slight edge to it now, doing little to hide her worried tone.

“I don’t feel too good mum…” he groaned down the line, precipitated by another hoarse cough

“Good gracious… whatever’s the matter son? You sound terrible!”

“I’m burning up” Michael shivered, and pulled the duvet up over him, trying to quell the chill running throughout his body.

“What’s your temperature?”

“Um… it was over a hundred the last time I checked”

“Michael… listen to me. I want you to run yourself a luke warm bath and go sit in it. You hear me? Have you taken anything?”

“A… a… atchoo! I had some ibuprofen earlier but I still feel like shit mum…”

“Well by the sounds of it you might have the flu”

“I keep going hot and then really cold… And every bone in my body aches”

“Definitely sounds like the flu. Make sure you keep on top of it with painkillers and do as I said. Strip off and cool yourself down in the bath. I’d say have a cool shower but as you’re on your own it’s probably safer just to sit in the bath love”

“Okay… I’m sorry to wake you up” Michael croaked out, his mother’s words inadvertently stinging.

 _She was right though._ He _was_ alone.

Feeling very sorry for himself his mind wandered, trying to imagine what would become of him if he was to die in this flat. How long would it take for someone to discover his body? No-one ever came here. Not even his parents or sister. The only time he saw his family was on his brief trips back to Killarney.

He stifled a tear, now feeling even more sorry for himself, and more than a little overwhelmed at his morose thoughts if he was being totally honest.

“Are you still there son?”

“Um… yeah”

“Okay… go run that bath. Make sure you drink lots of fluids and will you ring me in the morning or shall I ring you?”

“I’ll ring you mum…”

“Promise me Michael. You know I’ll only worry if you don’t. I hate to think of you being there all alone when you’re sick sweetheart”

He apologised again for waking her up, promising to ring her before lunch. He was just about to hang up when she stopped him.

“And Michael..?” his mum paused “I love you”

“I love you too… pass on my love to dad as well will you” he managed between another sneezing fit.

“Your father is out for the count. I’m surprised you can’t hear him snoring!” she laughed down the phone before growing serious again “but I promise I’ll tell him when he wakes up. If you start to feel any worse call a doctor straight away Michael. Love you son”

And with that they said their goodbyes and Michael was once again alone.

It was to prove to be a long night. For no sooner had he managed to bring his temperature down, it soared back up again and he eventually resorted to just sitting in the bath trembling until he couldn’t take it any longer and then crawled onto the bed, not bothering to even dry himself.

It’s a curious thing that one who had built up so many barriers could yearn so heartily for comfort and companionship in his weakened state but Michael found himself doing exactly that.

His mind treacherously returned to the memory of the beguiling woman, warming his body with thoughts of her voluptuous curves melding with his own leaner frame.

Sometime after 5am he must have drifted off into a fitful sleep and when his alarm went off at 8am he could barely summon the energy to even move to turn it off.

Had the heavy guitar riffs of AC/DC’s ‘[ _Let’s Get it Up’_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jq9r4-xvunk) not been so jarring to his delicate head he felt certain it would still be playing even now but somehow he mustered what little energy reserve he could and rolled over, slamming the off button.

There was no way he was going to be able to work today.

_None whatsoever._

Reluctantly, _for Michael hated to let people down_ , he rang Madeline who insisted he stay in bed and rest up.

“Do you need anything sweetheart?” she questioned, for she was indeed very fond of the gentle younger man who seemed at times to be so desperately lonely.

“No… I’ll be grand. Don’t worry about me” Michael lied, not wanting to be an imposition.

But his voice betrayed him and as Mrs Jenks put down the phone she resolved to call in with soup and company later that evening.

Michael fell back asleep soon after his conversation and spent the rest of the day feeling very sorry for himself indeed.

*

Darcey dropped her bags at her usual booth, surveyed the near empty library and marched resolutely to the counter before she could chicken out.

Glancing around she couldn’t see him but she’d already concocted a back-up plan of sorts just in case of this eventuality

“Good evening. It’s Kitty… isn’t it?” she tried to strike up a friendly tone towards the younger woman, smiling warmly at her.

The girl, rather pleased with herself that she had made an impression of sorts on one of the patrons smiled back and nodded “Hi… yes it is. What may I help you with?” she asked in her most eloquent tone. She much admired this regular visitor to the research archives. The woman had such an air of class and poise, and Kitty hoped one day to possess even a fraction of such herself.

“I was wondering if I could have access to the D. H. Lawrence manuscripts?” Darcey asked, holding out her library card and permission slip, her eyes darting briefly towards the office door, hoping to catch even a fleeting glimpse of the man she was so desperate to see.

“I’m afraid I won’t be able to help you with that tonight” Kitty sighed apologetically “Someone was asking for them earlier today and they were quite out of both myself and Mrs Jenks’ reach. They had to be moved so a few years ago” she raised her eyebrows and whispered conspiratorially “apparently there was some sort of indiscretion in the archive room”

Darcey’s eyebrows raised in amusement both at the shocked look Kitty was trying to portray and the thought of horny students using the archive as a place to hook up under the illusion that by surrounding themselves with the rare erotic fictions of Lawrence they were somehow being daring and romantic!

“They had taken to using it as a meeting place for… well… shenanigans as they say!” Kitty continued in a shocked whisper, making explicit what Darcey had already deduced.

“Ah… such is the allure of Lawrence!” Darcey giggled knowingly and Kitty couldn’t help but laugh along, finding the scenario quite hilarious the more she thought about it.

When they had finally stopped laughing, Darcey saw her chance and, in as nonchalant a manner as she could possibly muster, asked “Could the gentleman who usually works on an evening not reach them for me? I do desperately need to look at them”

“Michael?” Kitty questioned then immediately looked embarrassed for letting her professionalism slip again and quickly corrected herself “Erm… sorry. Do you mean Mr Fassbender?”

Darcey, unaware of any other male librarians working in the archive nodded, her heart beginning to pound fiercely in her chest as she took stock of the knowledge she had just acquired. _Kitty had inadvertently given her his full name!_ She’d hoped at best for one or the other, never dreaming she’d learn both quite so easily.

“Is he the tall gentleman with the glasses?” she clarified, suddenly thinking it prudent to make certain.

“Yes. He normally works on a Monday evening but he phoned in sick this morning. Mrs Jenks said he sounded ‘ _quite terrible’_ ” she air quoted with her fingers “In fact that’s where she’ll probably be now. She was so worried about him, him being alone and everything, that she said she was going to call in on him on her way home…” Kitty trailed off, realising she was rambling.

She blushed and looked at Darcey’s library card and hesitantly addressed her “I’m so sorry… Miss Collins… You don’t want to be bothered with all this! My mum is always telling me off for gossiping…” she sighed wistfully and Darcey smiled benevolently at the younger woman.

“Kitty it’s quite alright. I won’t tell a soul what you’ve told me. You have my word. I only hope the poor man is feeling better soon” she sighed truthfully, both for his own good health but also, rather selfishly given the circumstances, her own plan.   

“Thank you Miss Collins” she answered, genuinely relieved and liking the customer more and more.

“Darcey… please. Call me Darcey. Miss Collins sounds so stuffy and I’m anything but!” she smiled warmly and winked at Kitty, and despite the disappointment of not seeing the librarian… _Michael_ … she realised she was enjoying the company of the young woman more than she expected to.

Kitty grinned back and flattered by the kindly gestures of this woman she so admired, she decided to go, _as Mrs Jenks was so fond of encouraging her employees,_ ‘the extra mile’ for her.

“Miss Collins… erm… Darcey” she blushed “I could leave a note for Mr Fassbender if you’d like, so that on his return he could contact you and arrange a convenient time for you to come in and access the manuscripts?”

Darcey’s heart skipped a beat, hearing such a wonderful suggestion.

“Oh Kitty that really would be fantastic!” she cried out enthusiastically before tempering her spirits just a little, for fear of Kitty seeing through her exuberance.

But she needn’t have worried. Such was Kitty’s own delight at being seen as a help to the woman that she completely missed the obvious signs of a woman with amorous intent in her eyes.

Having been passed a slip of paper, Darcey thought for a moment what to write, then in her best script simply wrote:

 

 

>   ** _Mr Fassbender, I would be grateful if you could contact me on you return to arrange access to the D.H. Lawrence archive. My number is 07700 900141._**
> 
> **_Kind regards,_ **
> 
> _**Darcey Collins**  _

 

She was just about to hand it over when a sudden flirtatious notion overwhelmed her sensible side and underneath her name she quickly scribbled:

 

 

> **_‘She was always waiting, it seemed to be her forte’_ **

 

Before she could think on the foolishness of her quoting from one of Lawrence’s raciest novels she folded and handed the slip of paper back to Kitty and thanked her again for her help.

They said their goodbyes, and having no reason to stick around now, Darcey gathered up her things and headed back out into the chilly evening air, waving a final goodbye to Kitty as she left.

Michael. _Such a pleasing name_ she thought as she let it roll over her tongue on the drive home.

But Fassbender? _How unusual._ She’d always thought she detected an Irish brogue to his voice but now she wasn’t quite so sure of her deductions.

It seemed that with every new piece of information about the man, he threw up more questions.

 _He certainly was an enigma_.

As she luxuriated in the bath that evening, cradling the glass of wine she’d craved earlier, she thought of all the information that Kitty had accidentally revealed to her. In just one short conversation Darcey had not only learnt his full name, but also that he lived alone.

Her heart sank as she remembered what Mrs Jenks had told Kitty and Darcey hoped he wasn’t too sick. Obviously she wouldn’t wish anyone ill health but her heart was particularly saddened to hear that the poor man was both alone and unwell.

However, she suddenly remembered her note and panic slowly began to rise in her chest as she wondered how he would take the mischievous quote that she had added to her otherwise clinical message.

She’d meant it as a bit of fun, alluding to her having to wait for his return from sickness but as she thought it through she wondered whether he would see the funny side, given that it had been taken from such a provocative novel.

Putting the wine glass down on the edge of the bath she covered her face with her hands and cringed at what she had done.

 _Fuck it!_   She finally thought.

 _Nothing ventured, nothing gained!_   She reminded herself and downed the remainder of her wine with a smirk, wishing she could be a fly on the wall when he finally did read the note.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for sticking with me! I'm so bogged down with study but i'm trying to update as regularly as possible. Hope you enjoy. :)


	9. Chapter Nine

** Chapter Nine **

 

Michael parked up outside the library and pulled off his helmet, breathing in the fresh air. It was good to be back at work.

_Hell, it was good to be out of the flat!_

He’d had to miss four days of work and by Tuesday when his fever finally broke he was already beginning to climb the walls. He hated being idle and he hated not earning money. Besides, regardless of his withdrawal from relationships with women, he was not an unsociable man. Mrs Jenks, however much older she was than him, had quickly become a good friend, almost a surrogate mum to him in fact, and Kitty kept him up to date with the latest news and gossip going on around campus. It was quite bizarre really that a man who had sworn off all women should come to have two as his best friends.

He hummed to himself as he made his way to the entrance, a spring in his step as he made his way over to the little office.

“Good morning Madeline!” he cheerfully called out as he removed his leather jacket and hung it on the back of the door.

“Ah, welcome back Michael!” the affable old lady smiled warmly at him “It’s so good to see you back on your feet my dear! I can tell you this now, I was quite worried about you on Monday”

Madeline Jenks had found him quite a state when she’d called after work a few days ago.

_He’d still had a high fever, couldn’t stop sneezing and had been a mere shadow of the strong, vital man she was so fond of. She’d fed him chicken soup, mopped his feverish brow and even changed his bedlinen for him, although there had been a momentary hitch when they were unable to find the spare bedsheet which Michael insisted should be in the cupboard. After some debate during which no such sheet was recovered she’d had to make do with changing his duvet and pillowcases and putting the rest of the bedlinen on to wash._

_She’d come the following two nights with more soup, ice cream to sooth his sore throat and more medication._

She’d really been a God-send and he had been truly grateful.

“I really can’t thank you enough” he said truthfully “but for now these will have to do!” and with a flourish he’d pulled out a small bouquet of slightly crumpled flowers, them having been hidden under his leather jacket on the ride over.

“Oh dear you didn’t have to do that!” she exclaimed but grabbed the flowers all the same, inhaling their sweet fragrance.

“Beautiful. Just beautiful!” she whispered as she hugged him tightly before heading over to the store cupboard and filling a bucket with water to keep them in.

Once the flowers were settled in their temporary vase she returned and went through the jobs which needed tending to that day.

Michael was just getting started on cataloguing some new entries to the collection when Madeline called to him.

“Oh Michael… I almost forgot. Kitty took a request from someone to access the Lawrence manuscripts while you were sick and I’m afraid neither of us could get to them”

Michael rolled his eyes. He’d heard all about the illicit meetings which used to take place under these very walls and wondered if someone was thinking of messing around again.

“I’m guessing you’d like me to keep an eye on whoever it is as well?” he questioned, already knowing the answer. Madeline had been deeply embarrassed when the carry-on had finally been exposed and had become the laughing stock of the University’s librarian community. It had taken her several years to rebuild her reputation and she’d be darned if she’d let it happen again.

“Ah here it is. They left a note asking you to call them on your return. Kitty must have let slip that you were poorly”

Michael took the note from her and unfolded it. What struck him first was the elegant handwriting with its loops and flourishes. When he read the last few words he gasped.

“What is it?” Madeline glanced up at him over her glasses.

“What..? Sorry… It’s nothing” Michael hid his perplexed frown and rubbed his hand absentmindedly over his bearded jaw. He’d not bothered shaving while he’d been ill and he quite liked the beard that quickly grew in, although he was a bit shocked just how ginger it was! Still, he’d decided to keep it for the time being.

“I guess I’d better give them a call then…” he exhaled and walked over to the phone.

“Them? Man..? Woman..? …Group...?” Madeline frowned and looked at Michael worriedly.

“I don’t know… looks like just the one but it’s a kind of a unisex name. Did Kitty not say?”

“You know that girl dear. I love her to pieces but she sometimes gets carried away with her ramblings and I’m afraid I switched off!” the older lady giggled to herself and Michael couldn’t help but laugh too.

“No problem, I’ll sort it out” Michael picked up the phone when he’d stopped laughing and started to dial the number, turning the paper over in his hand and re-reading the Lawrence quote at the end.

_**‘She was always waiting, it seemed to be her forte’** _

He was familiar enough with the archives to know it had come from Lady Chatterley's Lover but it puzzled him as to why someone would add it to an archive request.

*

The sound of Metallica's _'[Enter Sandman](https://youtu.be/CD-E-LDc384?t=1m12s)'_  flooded through the lecture theatre and Darcey rolled her eyes before realising it was her own damn phone.

_Shit! Bugger! Shit!_

Everyone stared at her as she fumbled around in her bag trying to find the source of the heavy metal now pumping through Professor Russell’s lecture.

 _“Miss Collins!”_   Darcey’s nemesis roared “when you have _quite_ finished interrupting my lecture, I  _would_   like to continue…”

Flustered, Darcey finally retrieved the offending article and seeing an unknown number rejected the call before switching the phone off, just to be on the safe side.

“Sorry Professor…” she mumbled, embarrassment clear for everyone to see as she sat hot and red-faced through the remainder of the lecture. She intended to creep out as the bell rang but as she gathered up her things she heard a cantankerous voice calling her name.

“Miss Collins… could I see you for a moment?” The question was rhetorical for no-one would dare say no to the professor. She made her way to the front of the lecture theatre and stood, like a child on the naughty step, waiting to be further scolded.

“Professor I’m _so_ sorry again… I must have forgotten to turn my phone off…”

“Miss Collins… I did not call you down here to talk about mobile phones” Professor Russell rolled her eyes with contempt before continuing “I _actually_   wanted to speak to you about your essay on American literature. As you may be aware, each year we host a series of New Year’s lectures for the faculty and post graduates…” she paused and Darcey’s eyebrows raised in surprise. She was well aware of the lectures.

“I was most impressed with your work and I would like you to read it as part of my lecture” Darcey’s mouth must have gaped open in stunned shock as Professor Russell smirked for a moment before continuing “Now, now… there’s no need for over-dramatics Miss Collins. It is merely a case of reading out your essay and responding to any questions which may arise afterwards, although that part will be much less formal I assure you”

Darcey could hardly believe her ears. Not only had Professor Russell actually complimented her on her work, but she also thought it was worthy of being included in one of her lectures, which just happened to always be the highlight of the week-long lecture series.

It was as she had these musings that she realised the woman was staring at her, clearly waiting for a response.

“Oh yes, Professor Russell. It would be a real honour. Thank you so very much… I won’t disappoint you!” she gushed.

“Good, good…” she clucked, clearly having had enough of Darcey’s sycophancy. I’ll arrange for my secretary to send you the details and we will meet once a week to rehearse. I cannot abide being under prepared” and with that she picked up her stack of essays and headed over to the doors, leaving Darcey still stood, quite stunned.

“Oh and Miss Collins…” the Professor purred dangerously as she passed her “If you _ever_ disturb one of my lectures again I will have you thrown off the course!”

With those parting words she left the room, leaving Darcey once again slack-jawed.

*

The phone rang. _And rang. And rang_. Just as Michael was about to give up it finally clicked to the answerphone and he couldn’t help but guffaw.

 

**_“_** **_You have reached the Dark Side… leave your message and may the Force be with you!”_ **

 

Trying to hide the laughter in his voice at the Darth Vader message he waited for the beep and then spoke:

“Cool message! Erm, sorry… it’s Mr Fassbender from the Special Collections Archive. Just returning your message. I’m here until 8pm tonight. Otherwise just give us a call back and we’ll arrange a mutually convenient appointment. Thanks”

With another laugh to himself at the frankly rubbish Darth Vader impersonation he thought no more of it and went back to cataloguing.

The afternoon passed relatively quickly for a Friday. It was always one of the quieter days as most students went straight to the pub after lectures were over. Really, only a couple of students and of course _that_ woman tending to bother with the archives in the evening at all.

He’d done a pretty good job of putting her out of his mind over the last couple of days. Concentrating on getting well again he _literally_   hadn't had the energy to rehash his foolish behaviour too much.

He looked around the empty room. Madeline had left half an hour ago and Kitty had the day off after covering his shifts earlier in the week, so it was just him. _Alone again._

He glanced up at brass clock above his head. Just gone six o’clock. Still two hours to go. He honestly didn’t know why they even stayed open this late at the weekend.

_No one came this late._

Ah well. At least he could get some work done. It really wasn’t too bad of a job. He was getting paid while he sat and studied. Gathering his work from the office he spread it out across the desk behind the counter and set about writing notes.

He didn’t know how long he’d been working but a slight chill made him sit back in his chair and stretch.

He heard the rustle of keys and an “ahem” followed by a woman’s voice addressing him.

“Mr Fassbender? I got your message. I hope it’s not too late to access the archives?”

Michael stood and turned, before doing a double-take.

She stood before him, looking windswept but no less alluring than the last time he’d seen her, straddling his lap at the party.

 _Darcey._ He realised. _Darcey Collins_ … was _the_ woman.


	10. Chapter Ten

** Chapter Ten **

_Fuckity fuck fuck…_

This was not happening. Surely?

“Mr Fassbender..?” 

“Oh… erm… sorry… Hi there” Michael tried to compose himself, running his hand nervously over the whiskers of his beard and desperately trying to look anywhere but at her lips.

“Hi… you left a message? I realise I’m a little late but I came as soon as possible after work…”

He glanced up at the clock. It was ten past seven. _Shit, he’d hoped it was nearly eight and he could make the excuse that there wasn’t time._ _Then he’d arrange for the manuscripts to be brought down ready for her on her return and get Kitty to ‘guard’ them._

But no. He wasn’t going to get out of this quite so easily it seemed.

The woman, Miss Collins… stood looking at him but she seemed a bit flustered. Oh fuck... he hoped she hadn't recognised him from the ball.

 _No…_ _Probably just irritated Michael. She said she’d come straight from work and you’re just stood gawking at her. Say something_ …

 _Say_ … _Something man..._

_...Anything!_

“No… I mean… yes. It’s fine. Although it’ll have to be a quickie tonight…”

 _Fuck!_ Don’t say _that!_

“Shit! Sorry!” Michael could feel the heat rise in his cheeks as the woman snorted with laughter, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Well I do _usually_ prefer to take my time…” she purred, staring him straight in the eyes “but I’m quite happy to settle for a quickie tonight…” she winked at him.

_Jesus Christ! Was she flirting with him?_

Michael couldn’t help it. A small gasp escaped his lips and he quickly looked away. _Did_ she recognise him? Was this her way of payback he wondered. If it was he couldn’t really blame her. He looked back up, just in time to watch her slowly trace her tongue delicately along her cupids bow.

_Fuck! He needed to get away from this woman. Now!_

“Okay” Michael finally spoke, trying to sound nonchalant but feeling certain his voice was at least two octaves higher than normal “Just give me a minute to grab the keys”

Michael crouched down at the safe and counted to ten. He needed to get a grip.

_He’d already succumbed once. He needed to be strong this time._

Darcey stood, watching him bent under the desk as he searched for the keys. She got a sudden sense of déjà vu, remembering the first time she’d seen him, in this exact position, legs bent, ass wiggling deliciously.

For the briefest of moments her thoughts went back to _that_ man at the party. _Fuck but he had just as nice an ass_.

 _Damn woman! Concentrate!_ **_This_** _man in front of you is sex on legs, while **that** man ditched you!_

And the beard? Good lord, well that was new but it just seemed to add another air of mystery to him.

_And the romantic in her did so like a bit of mystery in a man!_

She imagined running her fingers through the soft curls and sighed before remembering her plan. _Slowly slowly… Darcey!_

She didn’t know what it was, but he always seemed a little bit… _well apprehensive_ … around her. She feared her desperate attraction showed and realised she probably needed to dial it back a bit. The last thing she wanted was to spook the poor guy.

She watched the muscles contort under his shirt as he pulled himself back upright, keyring looped through his long fingers, and bit her lip, save another sigh escaped her traitorous lips.

“Right… okay” he smoothed back his hair, seemingly deep in thought and moved out from behind the desk and towards the archive room, leaving Darcey stood watching him, before he appeared to remember himself and turned back towards her.

“Sorry… I’m under strict instructions for the manuscripts not to leave my sight” he sighed with a shrug “but as I’m the only one here I can’t leave the desk unattended. Could I ask you to just wait there while I quickly fetch them out?”

“Of course… You can trust me” Darcey smiled kindly.

He frowned, the creases on his forehead becoming more prominent, and pursed his lips as if he was about to say something more, before he seemed to think better of it and headed into the archive room.

 _Okay. This may well be harder than she’d originally thought_.

He seemed to be a closed book, _pardon the pun_. Surely someone as hot as that should at least be used to attention from women? He _must_ get it every day.

 _Fuck!_ Unless… maybe he just wasn’t interested in women?

She sighed. It wouldn’t be the first time _that_ had happened. _Then again Darcey_ , she reminded herself, _maybe_ you’re just not his type. She knew she was by no means everyone’s cup of tea. She didn’t have skinny thighs, a toned stomach or a cute little ass. She sighed as she self-consciously smoothed down her skirt.

It was while Darcey was musing over what she considered to be all her flaws that Michael quietly pulled the archive door open and surreptitiously watched for a moment. As she stood waiting, running her small hands over the generous curves of her hips, a shadow seemed to fall across her beautiful features which made him want to just take her in his arms, hold her to him and never let go. She seemed, somehow vulnerable as she worried her lip whilst fidgeting with the hem at the bottom of her cardigan. The action pulled on the knitwear and the top button popped open, but she didn’t seem to notice.

Michael couldn’t help but wonder what was going on in her mind. In contrast to the confidence he’d seen in her just moments ago she now seemed, somehow nervous. Innocent even.

Yet he knew only too well this woman was far from innocent. Her talented lips had proven that much to him already.

He took a deep breath and headed back over, this time walking around to stand on the same side of the counter as her.

“Sorry to keep you waiting… here we go. If it’s okay with you I’ll set things up here in this booth?” he moved to the one which Darcey usually used but missed the way she smiled at that.

“I can keep my eye on you here… _ahem_ … sorry! I meant the manuscripts… I… I can keep my eye on the manuscript here!” he repeated, cursing himself for his faux pas and trying to ignore the little giggle she made.

Unable to look at her he continued “You will, of course need to use the gloves to handle the texts as I’m sure you’re aware… and erm… If you can keep them in the foam stands I’d be grateful”

“Not a problem” Her voice, so close, startled him and he turned to find her standing mere inches away from him, looking up with a warm smile. Even in her heels she was quite a bit shorter than him and he tried his best not to dwell on how much he liked that.

“Thank you Mr Fassbender”

“You’re welcome… Miss Collins” he replied, enjoying the way she said his name so formally. She had a peculiar accent, very well spoken, with many of her words pronounced in the classic ‘received pronunciation’ style. But his Irish roots also detected a slight Gaelic influence, along with the odd hint of a Northern accent that he couldn’t quite place.

“Darcey… _please..._ ” she slipped past him, her hand brushing his arm as she settled herself into the chair, inadvertently giving him an eyeful of cleavage where her button had popped open earlier.

Michael found himself staring down at the tantalisingly soft skin, remembering just how good it had tasted on his lips and felt that all too familiar fire in his loins that this woman continually stoked.

Yet he didn’t move.

Instead he opened his mouth and said, in a voice so deep he barely recognised it as his own, “Michael”

“Well…” Darcey looked up and blinked, her heart beginning to pound in her chest as she saw he was staring down at her, his eyes betraying his curiosity “thank you _Michael_ ”

There was a moment as they looked into one another’s eyes without saying a word which, while fleeting, seemed to go on for ever, such was the intensity within both.

Michael broke eye contact first “Well… I guess I should leave you to it” his voice was husky, doing nothing to hide his desire and realising he was in dangerous territory he turned away and started to walk back over towards the help desk.

“ _Be still when you have nothing to say; when genuine passion moves you, say what you've got to say, and say it hot”_

Michael stopped in his tracks and turned back towards her. She was leaning forward in her chair, back arched and cheeks flushed as she trailed her gloved finger delicately along the open page of the manuscript.

“Pardon?”

Darcey jumped in her seat. Looking around it suddenly dawned on her that she must have said the words out loud and her mouth formed a perfect O as she looked from Michael’s shocked face back to the open page of the manuscript.

“Erm… _shit!_ ” she stuttered, the confident air she’d been trying to portray ever since she’d set foot in the library evaporating as her cheeks burned bright red and she bit her lip.

Michael stood there, just staring at her, his eyebrows raised as he maintained eye contact. He slowly ran his long fingers over his bearded jaw in contemplation before stopping and taking a deep breath as if he was about to say something.

The attraction between them was palpable.

Darcey stared.

_When had he removed his glasses?_

His eyes, no longer hidden behind the frames, shone a brilliant blue even from the short distance between them.

She was totally captivated, the words she’d spoken moments earlier on the tip of her tongue. This had not been part of her plan but she knew she would curse herself later if she did not at least _try_ to take advantage of the situation.

“I said ‘ _Be still when you have nothing to say; when genuine passion moves you, **say** what you've got to say, and say it **hot** ’_ ”

She emphasised the words, practically panting ‘hot’.

 _Jesus! What the hell was she doing?_   She must sound beyond desperate.

“Oh God… I’m sorry” she suddenly came to her senses “Look. I’m just going to be honest here… I like you! You seem really sweet, and genuine… and I like your voice! But I wasn’t trying to come on to you then, I swear. I just… kind of got carried away… I didn’t even realise I’d said it out loud…” she trailed off, realising she was rambling and stood up abruptly, knocking the chair over in the process. It clattered to the floor, the sound echoing in the otherwise silent library.

“Fuck!” she cursed and went to pick up the chair, giving Michael a perfect view of her ass as she bent over in the tight pencil skirt.

He sucked in a breath and tried to compose himself. Whether she’d intended to come on to him or not it was out there now. She’d just told him in no uncertain terms. This was the time to nip things in the bud once and for all.

He opened his mouth to speak but before he could get any words out she’d righted herself and the chair, grabbed her bags and coat and was dashing towards the exit, her heels clicking loudly against the stone floor.

“Hey… wait a minute….” Michael called after her.

She turned and looked at him, her face now crimson with embarrassment and he couldn’t help himself. He walked purposely over, stopping a short distance from her.

Darcey looked at him warily until he smiled gently at her. The worry lines in his brow relaxed and he moved a step closer, close enough that he could hear her rapid breathing.

“I… I like you too” he confessed, his treacherous mouth once again his undoing “but... and I need to be totally up front with you here... I’m not looking for someone right now”

_There. He’d said it._

Darcey gulped, hearing the words every woman hopes to hear when they bare their souls to a potential suitor, only for it to be swiftly followed by a sting in the tail.

_Now what was she going to do?_

Her head was telling her to get the hell out of there and go and lick her wounds. But as she looked into his regretful eyes she saw the tiniest flicker of something which made her heart beat a little faster.

_There was the unmistakable glimmer of desire._

She sucked in a breath as she composed herself and then smiled up at him, putting on her most confident expression.

“Well then… how about friends? Because I don’t know about you Michael but I definitely have room for another friend…”

Michael’s face broke into a cautious smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners “Yeah! That could be cool...”

“Okay then. As _friends_ how about we pack away all these things and go and get a drink? Because I don't know about you but I have had a long week and I could do with a stiff one…” she face-palmed “fuck! A stiff _drink!_ ”

Michael couldn’t help himself. He threw his head back and roared with laughter. Darcey joined in and they giggled like a pair of teenagers until tears were streaming down both their faces.

When Michael finally stopped laughing he wiped the tears from his eyes and nodded his agreement.

Okay. He could do this. He could be just friends.

_Couldn’t he?_

 

_Erm... yeah the beard had to happen after I was reminded of this image..._

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you are enjoying it. Things are going to pick up pace a little bit now :)


	11. Chapter Eleven

** Chapter Eleven **

Deep down Michael knew he was entering dangerous waters the minute he agreed to go to the pub with Darcey but the simple fact was, her offer was just too irresistible. The alternative had been going for a drink on his own and then back to his flat. On his own.

 _And they were adults for Christ sake!_ He’d been upfront with her. She’d accepted his dismissal with dignity.

_At least it seemed so._

So why not…

Darcey had helped him put the manuscripts away then headed over to grab them a table while Michael finished a couple of jobs and locked up. The pub was only a five minute walk from the library and as Michael came to the entrance he’d hesitated, that feeling that he was going to regret letting his guard down niggling at him for a moment before he’d forced it deep inside and headed through the doorway.

It was busy, being a Friday night and located so close to the campus, but Michael was a regular so it didn’t faze him in the slightest. He figured a bit of background noise might actually hide any awkward silences. Looking around he spotted Darcey after a moment, squeezed up on a stool at the far corner of the bar, surrounded by two men. As Michael approached he could hear some sort of heated discussion and stopped for a second to assess the situation.

The two men looked like they were in their early-twenties. The one nearest him was taller than Michael. He wore skinny jeans and a Leeds university hoodie and was stood behind Darcey who sat with her back to him on the stool. The other man was shorter, maybe 5’8” but stocky. His rugby shirt explained his build, as did his cauliflower ear. This guy was talking and trying to lean into Darcey who turned her head to the side in avoidance. Her eyes were wide and her cheeks flushed signalling that she appeared to be uncomfortable and looking for an escape.

Michael didn’t like the look of what was going on one bit and quickly made his way over. Just as he reached them the taller guy slung his hand over Darcey’s shoulder and she let out a scream and almost fell off her stool. Meanwhile his mate was leering at her, his thick hands pawing at her as she tried to get away.

Michael didn’t even hesitate. He took a step to the side and punched the tall guy in the side of his jaw, sending him reeling over the bar and grabbed Darcey by the arm, pulling her towards him.

The crowded pub fell silent as the shorter man lunged towards them both. Michael moved instinctively in front of Darcey, protecting her, and ducked when the guy tried to hit him. His poorly judged attempt and Michael’s quick reflexes sent him spinning. As the fool staggered around it was clear that he was definitely worse for wear and two of the bar men rushed over.

“Right… out now!” they yelled, forcefully gripping the drunken guy who wrestled against his captors.

One of the barmen knew Michael and shook his head at him in shock “What’s got into you… You alright mate?”

“He… he was helping me” Darcey blurted out as she crept out from hiding behind Michael’s much taller frame. She was visibly shaking as she tried to explain “the… the man Michael punched over there? He… he groped me…” she sniffled, hot tears of anger and embarrassment now threatening to fall as she pointed at the other man “and him… he told me I was a…a…” she gulped back a sob before whispering “he said I was a ‘prick tease cougar in my tight skirt’ ” Darcey broke down then, tears rolling down her cheeks as she self-consciously wrapped her arms around herself, feeling as if everyone was judging her.

“She _is_ a fuckin’ cougar slapper that one!” the man spat out his venomous words defiantly “she should be fuckin’ lucky… prowlin’ round ‘ere lookin’ for fresh meat in them hooker shoes!”

Michael raised his fists. He was livid and it was only by the grace of God that the man who had defiled Darcey didn’t receive the same fate as his equally lecherous friend. Sensing another fracas, the bar men had shaken their heads at Michael in warning and hastily dragged the drunk away, where he might just have collided with the doors a couple of times more than was strictly necessary to get him out of the pub.

Michael turned immediately to Darcey and guided her gently to one side, the crowd in the pub returning back to their conversations now the excitement seemed to be over.

“Are you okay?” Michael’s eyes searched Darcey’s face but she wouldn’t look at him. “Hey… Darcey?”

Reluctantly she looked up, seeing the concern in his eyes and let out a loud sob and rubbed at her eyes uncomfortably. She must look a fucking mess right now. And she’d caught the way Michael had looked her up and down when she’d been called those names. Was he secretly thinking the same? Her hand self-consciously ran over her skirt, drying to pull it lower, despite the fact it was already past her knee.

As she attempted to compose herself she tried to think if she’d somehow given them the wrong idea but the simple fact was, she’d walked up to the stool, sat on it and waited to order a drink. Then she’d been immediately surrounded by those _boys_ , and yes they _were_ boys, men wouldn’t behave that way. No, Michael would never behave that way…

 _Michael_.

“I’m so sorry. I’d understand if you want to give it a miss…” she whispered, not trusting her voice.

“Are you kidding me? _You_ have nothing to be sorry for… And after that I think you and I _both_ need that drink love!”

 _Love_?

He’d said it so effortless that Darcey knew it didn’t mean anything but still, it sounded so good coming from his lips.

Realising that his hand was still on her shoulder, he squeezed it gently and guided her to a vacated table near the window. They sat quietly for a moment, Michael giving her the chance to compose herself and when she finally stopped shaking he headed to the bar.

Darcey started to really relax after Michael returned with a beer for himself and a cider for her. Over the course of the next couple of hours they chatted about themselves, their studies and work, families and friends and even joked about what a slave driver Professor Russell was. Michael laughed at the tales Darcey told of her lectures with the dictator, shaking his head in shock when she told him about a time when the woman had literally picked up everyone’s essay’s and thrown them all in the bin. 

It was as he was choking back tears of laughter about that incident that she told him about her ‘interesting’ lecture earlier that day.

Michael was at turns apologetic and ecstatic for Darcey. He knew what a huge deal it was to be selected for the lecture series, after all, as a post-graduate he got to sit in the audience. Yet he felt guilty that he’d inadvertently got her into trouble, even though Darcey had reminded him that it was her own stupid fault for leaving the damn thing on. She rationalised this by noting that no-one ever called her and for some reason that resonated with Michael. He caught her eye then and saw just the briefest flicker of sadness before she quickly checked herself.

Shortly afterwards she’d excused herself to nip to the restrooms before getting the next round of drinks in. By this time they were on soft drinks, both of them driving, yet neither seeming to want the night to end. 

But the night did indeed finally come to a close. Having stayed until last orders, they returned to the library car park, both feeling that they knew the other a great deal better. Michael was pleasantly surprised that, after the initial declaration in the library, Darcey had kept to her word and not even attempted any kind of move towards something more intimate. For his part, after doing his best to make her feel at ease after those dickheads had insulted her so unjustly, he’d found himself walking a carefully navigated tightrope between being genuinely concerned for her and not wanting to tempt fate or invite any kind of non-platonic feelings. He walked Darcey over to her car and grinned at it.

“What?” she laughed

“A Mini? Of course!”

“Really? Am I _that_ predictable?” she giggled, rubbing her hands together as the cold night air made her shiver.

“It’s just… it’s small and cute… just like you!”

Darcey blinked up at him, her mouth curving into a surprised grin.

“Oh I’m cute am I?” she teased.

_Fuck! He’d said that out loud._

“I… just meant... _fuck_ … sorry! I just meant you’re both little… and sweet, y’know… like dinky?” Michael struggled for words realising the more he spoke, the bigger the grin got on Darcey’s lips.

“Dinky?” she raised an eyebrow in pretence of being insulted and Michael rolled his eyes.

“I give up!” he finally grinned back, a wide toothy smile that Darcey couldn’t help but stare at.

There was silence between the pair where neither seemed to want to say goodbye first and they just stood, both still grinning at the moment of playfulness that had passed between them.

Darcey, resolute in her mission to be patient finally broke the tension as she clicked the fob on her car keys and the sound of the central locking brought them both back to reality.

“Well then…”

“Well then…” Michael held the door open for her, trying not to stare as her skirt rode up just a fraction as she settled herself behind the steering wheel.

“We should do this again some time…” she started, before self-consciously smoothing down her skirt and blushing “that’s if you don’t mind defending my honour of course… I am sorry again about that…”  

Michael’s face clouded then.

“Darcey! _You_ have nothing to be sorry for, okay?” he leant so his elbows were on the car door and looked in at her, his eyes serious now “No man has the right to speak to any woman like that, regardless of what they’re wearing.”

Darcey shifted uncomfortably “Not that there is _anything_ wrong with what you’re wearing anyway…” he inadvertently cast an appreciative glance at her thighs and quickly added, noting the way her face had suddenly flushed “Shit… what I _meant_ to say was, _you dress like a woman_ … and that’s a _good_ thing okay? _Trust me_ … that’s a _really_ good thing! Don’t _ever_ let some poor excuse for a man make you feel unsure of yourself, okay?”

Her breath hitched at his heartfelt words and if she hadn’t already started the engine she might just have grabbed him and kissed him for what he’d said to her.

As it was, all she could do was thank him and he winked down at her, a grin now returning, where previously his face had become serious.

Little did he realise that in those few short words he’d restored her confidence in herself.

Lovers or just friends Darcey knew she’d found a good one in Michael and as they reluctantly said their goodbyes and she drove away, she already knew she would do anything to keep this man in her life.


	12. Chapter Twelve

** Chapter Twelve **

 

As Michael drove home that evening he'd had a grin on his face he couldn’t seem to dampen.

He told himself it was because he’d made a new friend, which was something of a rarity for him these days. He told himself it was because his new _friend_ was bright, vivacious and articulate, _at least when she wasn’t getting herself completely flustered and coming out with innuendo-loaded comments_. He also told himself it was because his new friend seemed to be genuinely interested in _him_ as a friend, even after he’d essentially rejected her. And he told himself it was because he was proud to have been able to defend his new friend against that pair of dick-heads in the pub.

But most of all, he told himself, it _was not_   because Darcey had told him - _while she was stone cold sober no less_ \- that she was attracted to him.

But all that aside, if he was being completely honest, he was bloody proud of himself. He’d kept his cool. He’d been polite, friendly and not at all flirtatious. And he’d only looked at her tits twice. _Okay, maybe three times…_ But in his defence they _were_ bloody magnificent and he would have had to have been blind, _or dead_ , not to have noticed them peeking out of her unbuttoned cardigan so enticingly.

 _Stop it!_ He warned himself. _Thinking about her like that made him no better than the filth he’d fought with in the pub… surely?_

His skin prickled with anger at the very thought of them.

_Who the fuck even does that?_

Why the hell would anyone think it was okay to insult a woman, _any woman_ , like that? Sure, Darcey stood out from the casually dressed crowd in the pub. But her clothes were still demure, even if her curves most certainly weren’t. But she always looked classy, pulled together. She never even wore a skirt above her knees.

 _But Jesus!_ Those fucking heels she wore? Yes they were high. _But they weren’t fucking hooker shoes for Christ sake_! She wore simple stilettos mainly. Her small feet arched in such a way as to throw out her hips when she walked. The effect was quite hypnotic.

_Not that he’d been taking notice you understand…_

Michael’s grin dissolved. She’d been so embarrassed about those idiots’ comments. _No, more than that. She'd been humiliated._ And scared. He saw the way her hands trembled and he’d had to fight against all his natural instincts not to just bundle her up in his arms right there in the pub.

But he’d known that would have been wrong. Their friendship was still new, boundaries still untested and, _as Michael was at pains to remind himself_ , he’d fobbed her advances off twice already. The last thing this proud woman would have wanted from him, surely, was a pity hug.

She deserved more than that from him. He sighed as he tried to block out the memory of just how soft her skin had felt against his own rough jaw at the party. Or how the fabric of her skirt clung to those hips that she smoothed her tiny hands over whenever she was feeling self-conscious.

 _Yes. He’d clocked that_. _She did it a lot._

He was at pains to not think of it as endearing, without much success of course. Because if there was one word which perfectly encapsulated Darcey it had to be endearing. For all her apparent sassiness, he’d already caught glimpses of her uncertainty.

He sighed to himself as he pulled up to the car park of this flat, wondering how one woman could pose such a dichotomy.

***

The following Wednesday, Michael’s taxi pulled up outside the library. He glanced at his watch. Ten to seven. Perfect timing. He quickly climbed the steps, smoothing down his T shirt and jacket before making his way inside. During his and Darcey’s impromptu night at the pub, Michael had let slip that himself, Madeline and Kitty took part in the weekly pub quiz at the same establishment and that they always fared terribly. This was a constant source of amusement among those who knew them at the pub, them being surrounded by books all day.

_Surely the librarians should have good general knowledge after all?_

And yes, in fairness, they did. However, the pub quiz did not cater to their, rather ‘singular’ areas of expertise. Madeline’s history knowledge was superb. However it was rare for there to be any questions set before the 1980’s, as the majority of the patrons hadn’t even been born until the late eighties and apparently the landlord was worried about ‘alienating his most lucrative clientele’. Kitty fared a little better, in that if there was a question about reality TV she at least knew the show, if not always the answer. And Michael? Well, he would jump with glee on the rare occasion that there was a question about some heavy metal band. He wasn’t bad at the movie questions either or any that came up about motor sports. But other than that he tended to sit, just like his team mates scratching his head in confusion. Still, it got him out of the flat and they always had a good laugh about just how awful they were.

Remembering telling all this to Darcey he got a sudden attack of sadness. He hadn’t seen her since that night. She hadn’t been in the library since and he couldn’t help but wonder why. Had he misread things _so_ badly? She’d seemed quite happy to be 'just friends' when he’d left her. Had she changed her mind?

It was as these doubts were once again spinning around in his mind that he pushed open the door and stopped in his tracks.

Darcey was sat in the library, finishing up some notes in preparation for her meeting with the Professor the following evening. If she was being totally honest, she’d been a little disappointed not to have heard from Michael since the other night. He had her number after all, whereas all she had was the number for the library.

She’d been knee deep in study all weekend and then had to work two late shifts at the café after Amy had fallen ill, so she hadn’t even had chance to visit the library. On a whim she’d decided to work from there that evening. For one thing the resources were right there should she need them, and for another there was always the chance that she’d finally see Michael again.

 _Damn it. Who was she kidding?_   She already had all the resources she needed for her meeting. She was there solely for the possibility of seeing Michael.

So it came as quite a disappointment when she found Kitty _and_   Mrs Jenks working behind the counter that cold November evening. With a dejected sigh she’d spread out her things and tried to concentrate on what she considered to be the weak areas of her essay.

She soon got lost in her writing and didn’t hear the footsteps approaching as she feverishly wrote.

“Darcey!”

She jumped in her seat. The voice, while hushed, was clear and unmistakeable.

 _Michael_.

She tried to calm herself, her heartbeat already quickening at the way he said her name. He sounded… Surprised? Happy?

_Desperate to tell her he had been wrong to dismiss her forwardness the other night?_

Nope. She was not going there…

Taking a gulp of air she slowly turned in her seat and with as much nonchalance as she could possibly muster she looked up at him.

“Oh! Hi Michael! How are things?”

“Erm… good. Great…” he smiled down at her, desperately trying to think of something to say. Anything to break the uncomfortable tension between them. It was odd. After their initial awkwardness the other night they’d got on like a house on fire, laughing and joking as if they’d known each other for years.

They’d spoken at length about Ireland, Darcey lamenting not having visited her grandparents for so long while Michael reminisced about the restaurant his parents owned. They’d also discovered a shared love of Metallica and AC/DC, which had been somewhat a surprise to Michael given the way Darcey presented herself. Flabbergasted and unable to hide his shocked face, he’d finally admitted as much and she’d scolded him good and proper, reminding him he should _never_ judge a book by its cover.

And of course she’d been quite right. Because as he’d begun to discover, Darcey was anything but a one dimensional character.

And right now she was staring up at him with an inscrutable expression on her delicate features.

_Right. Yes. Words Michael… Speak!_

“So…”

_Yeah… great Michael… smooth!_

“Yes! So how have you been? Did you get home safely…” he began to babble “Well… stupid me… of course you did. You’re sat right here! Wait… you _did_ get home safely the other night, didn’t you?” he frowned, his nose crinkling as he shook his head at his own stupidity. _What the hell had gotten into him?_

Darcey slid back her chair and stood up, facing him. _Well, facing his broad, muscular chest_. Which, incidentally, wasn’t _at all_ distracting as it rose and fell as he took rapid breathes.

“Michael… relax!” she finally dragged her eyes away and looked up, coming face to face with two mesmerising blue pools of emotion.

She couldn’t help herself.

She gasped as she took a sharp intake of breath. There was something eerily familiar about him today. He’d had a haircut. The new style suited him well, it was a little shorter on the back and sides. And he wasn’t wearing his glasses. He’d told her he only wore them at work because he was too lazy to bother putting his contacts in every morning. But the biggest change was that he’d shaved off his beard since she’d last saw him, and up close, well his jawline really was something to behold.

 _And good God how she’d like to hold it!_   She imagined running her tongue along its sharp, stubbled angles and had a sudden flashback to that night at the ball. _Eurgh. What the hell was it with her and men with strong jaws?_

Shaking the memory from her mind, literally – _much to Michael’s confusion_ , she smiled up at him, trying not to bite her lip as he finally relaxed his jaw and revealed that huge grin of his.

And just like that they fell into easy conversation. Michael apologised for not having arranged for them to meet up again. Darcey shook her head at this saying that as she was clearly the instigator of their impromptu night out it should have fallen to her to set up another ‘date’ (she’d air-quoted that particular word, unable to come up with a less contentious one). Thankfully Michael had shrugged it off and confessed that he hadn’t laughed so much in ages and they must definitely do it again some time.

But that ‘some time’ lingered heavily between them as neither suddenly wanted to be the one to look too eager.

It was as they were just getting around to talking about what Darcey was working on that Kitty approached them both.

“Erm, excuse me but we are closing now I’m afraid. Oh! Hi it’s Miss Collins… sorry… Darcey, isn’t it? I should have known it was you” Kitty flushed, hearing how that sounded in her own head and noticing both Michael and Darcey raise their eyebrows.

“Oh God… I just meant because, well you always look so amazing! we never get anyone else so glamorous in here... I would love to know where you buy your clothes. Not that they’d look anywhere near as good on me, but well, you know…” she gushed, growing redder in the face as she finally trailed off.

“Thank you, you really are too kind Kitty” Darcey was a little overwhelmed and began to blush as well. For a moment she even wondered if Michael had asked Kitty to say that after the incident at the pub the other night but as she glimpsed at him out of the corner of her eye he seemed to be as nonplussed as Darcey.

“You're welcome. Erm... right… well. We really do need to close up now, otherwise we’ll be late. And Madeline said she’s been swotting up on TOWIE!” Kitty grinned at Michael and he snorted with laughter.

“Oh Jesus! Now I can’t wait to get over there!”

Darcey watched this exchange, suddenly feeling like she was eavesdropping and hurriedly turned back to her desk to collect up her things. She stuffed everything haphazardly into her overflowing book bag and as she shrugged on her coat she turned back towards them, catching them whispering before Kitty shoved Michael towards her.

He glanced back at his assailant with a look that could kill before turning back to face Darcey with a nervous looking smile on his face.

“Erm… Darcey? I realise this is ridiculously last minute and everything but I don’t suppose you fancy joining us for the quiz?” Michael shuffled from foot to foot, his hands planted deep in his black jeans pockets as he desperately tried to act like it was no big deal.

“Oh I couldn’t possibly intrude” the words were out of Darcey’s mouth before she realised what she was saying.

_Damn stupid British bloody manners!_

“Darcey, you’d be anything but intruding, trust me!” Michael stared at her, his gaze impenetrable “but of course, if you’ve got somewhere you need to be…” he trailed off.

“We really _do_ need all the help we can possibly get!” piped up Kitty, who had come to stand alongside Michael.

“Well, if you put it like that I guess I better had come and help you guys out!” Darcey laughed gently, trying her best not to read too much into the fact that Michael had just fist pumped at her response. From what he’d told her, the quiz was a nightmare and their team definitely needed some help.

Kitty shocked her by throwing her arms around Darcey in a hug before realising what she had done and apologising profusely. Darcey laughed it off and walked with them both over to where Mrs Jenks was waiting to switch off the lights. Kitty quickly filled her in on the additional team mate and they all walked jovially across the road to the pub, where a table had been reserved for them.

Over the next couple of hours Darcey astounded her team mates with her knowledge of seemingly useless trivia. It appeared that all those years spent researching her many failed novels hadn’t been completely wasted. She never disclosed the source of her knowledge though. That still brought up painful memories of rejection.

At the end of the evening they’d finished a respectable fifth, some twenty places ahead of their usual ranking and the team were ecstatic.

“That’s it. Darcey has to come every week!” Mrs Jenks exclaimed, a little excitable after one too many celebratory sherry’s. Thankfully her husband Ted would be chauffeur that evening as, with the exception of Darcey, all three librarians were more than a little tipsy.

Darcey sat back in her seat and watched the three of them goofing around as she slowly sipped her coke. They really were an oddly eclectic trio but totally hilarious together, especially once they’d had a drink. It turned out Mrs Jenks, or Madeline as Darcey was eventually scolded into calling her, was not quite the doddery old lady she let everyone believe she was. That woman had quite the mouth on her and an alarming range of expletives whenever she got a question wrong. And my goodness was she a flirt!

The two young barmen who had escorted that abusive man out last week were her main targets, but she turned her advances to Michael as the evening drew on.

“You know, for a slim man you really do have such lovely biceps Michael” she ran her liver spotted hand over his upper arm and squeezed his muscle indulgently. Poor Michael, ever the gentleman, laughed it all off of course. There no question of impropriety in her words, but Darcey noticed how his cheeks reddened at Madeline’s compliments as she watched from across the table.

It was when Madeline excused herself to go to the ladies room, Kitty offering to escort her after she wobbled to her feet, that Michael made his escape.

Rounding the table he plonked himself down heavily on the banquette next to Darcey and stretched his arms up behind his head against the worn leather, chuckling “Rescue me Darcey! Rescue me!”

“Having fun?” she giggled, turning her head and immediately wishing she hadn’t as she got an eyeful of the very biceps that Madeline had been worshipping. They flexed and relaxed hypnotically as he tapped his fingers lazily, humming along to some tune only he could hear.

Dragging her eyes down, save she self-combust, she had to bite her lip as she noticed that his grey T shirt had ridden up, exposing a sneaky line of taut pale skin and a decidedly prominent vein which disappeared under the waistband of his low slung jeans.

_Jesus H. Christ. What the fucking hell was that thing powering?!_

She felt her cheeks begin to flush but still couldn’t stop herself from staring at the damn thing, oblivious to the fact that Michael had now tipped his head to the side and was, in turn, watching her just as curiously.

“Hey! You okay? You're looking a bit hot” Michael leant over towards her, dropping his arms and breaking the spell in the process.

“What? Oh… erm… yeah” she tried to compose herself, licking her dry lips and taking a deep cleansing breath “Sorry. I guess I must have zoned out there or something. I should probably be off soon. I have a lecture at ten”

“Right… yeah, of course. Well… I’m sure I’m not the only one hoping you’ll consider Madeline’s request to come and be part of our team?” Michael smiled at her warmly, his eyes searching out her answer.

“Yes. I’d really love that… if you’re sure you don’t mind?”

“Dassey, Darsea… Darcey…” Michael slurred his words a little as he tried to say her name, eliciting a giggle from her and a pat on his knee.

“Michael, Michael… Michael…I think you might need to call it a night too” she teased back but he placed his hand over hers, anchoring it on his knee and stared into her eyes.

“Please… stop saying that…” he whispered, his voice suddenly becoming somewhat melancholic.

“What? That it’s time to go? Sorry Michael I was just teasing you…” she worried her lip.

“No!” Michael raised his voice, a hint of impatience slipping through his usual controlled exterior “stop asking if I mind! Believe me, if I didn’t want you here you wouldn’t be here, okay?!”

Darcey tensed, realising that they’d been talking at cross purposes. Still, his demeanour was beginning to make her nervous and she tried to pull her hand away.

“Sorry!” she started to apologise and he interrupted her, tightening his grip on her hand “No! Stop it! Stop apologising. _Please_..." he sighed "You… _you_ of all people have _nothing_ to apologise for! Stop it. Stop apologising for being you… because you are… bloody brilliant!”

Darcey’s mouth hung open in shock. She had no idea where all this was coming from. Michael had always been so restrained and she found it a tiny bit disconcerting if she was being totally honest. She glanced across the table, noticing all the empty glasses and figured it was just the alcohol talking, remembering she was the only sober one there.

There was an awkward silence before the sing-song voice of Kitty interrupted them as she approached the table, with a decidedly worse for wear Madeline in tow. Michael released Darcey’s hand almost as if it was contaminated, so fast was his movements, and she pulled it back into her lap fidgeting with her fingernails.

“Well then. I’d better be getting home” she rose from her seat and focused on straightening her skirt, not daring to even look at Michael “It really has been fun. I can’t wait to do it again next week!”

“So don’t…”

Michael’s voice was crystal clear in the nearly empty pub.

“Sorry?” Darcey turned, immediately regretting her choice of word as she saw his brow furrow for the briefest of moments.

“Do you want to meet up for a drink again on Friday after work?”  

Darcey considered it for the briefest of moments. Despite his current odd behaviour she already knew her answer.

“Yeah… I’d love to! Same time as last week?”

“Sounds like a plan” Michael smiled then, all the tension leaving his face as he stood, just a little wobbly on his feet, and escorted her and the others towards the door to say their goodbyes. Kitty had apparently called Ted from the toilets, thinking it unwise to let Madeline have anything else to drink.

They waved each other off and Darcey was making her way through the car park back towards her car as the others all piled into Ted’s when she heard Kitty’s voice.

“Shit! Michael I almost forgot, Will’s been looking for his Batman mask? Have you still got it?”

“Erm…w…what?” Darcey heard Michael’s hushed voice in the still night air and held her breathe.

“Oh yeah… I’ll bring it in tomorrow…”

Darcey’s heart pounded in her chest and she quickened her pace, suddenly desperate to get to the safety of her little Mini.

No. Fucking. Way.

It had to be a coincidence.

 

_It just had to be..._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun dun...!
> 
> A couple of notes:  
> * TOWIE is a trashy reality TV show, otherwise known as The Only Way Is Essex. I honestly never thought i'd reference it in one of my fics but whatever! :D  
> * Re: the vein... if you REALLY need to ask just go check out Conor in Fish Tank in that kitchen scene... erm... yeah... You're welcome.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Chapter Thirteen**

 

Michael grimaced and shook his head as he stooped to get into the back seat of Ted’s Volvo.

He could cheerfully throttle Kitty right now. _What if Darcey had fucking heard?_   Worse still, what if she put two and two together?

_Oh God. Please don’t let her have heard…_

In all honesty, he knew he was being unfair to Kitty. She was clueless to her faux pas, Michael not having confided in _anyone_ about what a prize shit he’d been at the Ball. And it was his own fault anyway. He’d tossed the mask aside in frustration once he’d finally got home that night. Then he’d gotten sick and completely forgot all about returning the damn thing.

His jaw set, and he glanced out of the car window towards the library as they pulled out of the car park. He watched as Darcey climbed into her Mini, her face a little flushed and cursed himself again.

“Fuck! I really should’ve walked Darcey back over to her car…” he moaned to no one in particular.

 _What the fuck was wrong with him?_ He’d left her to walk over to the deserted car park alone. Granted, it really _was_ deserted. It was well lit, with only her Mini parked up and there was no-one else in sight but that didn’t mean there couldn’t have been someone else around, lurking.

“Yes Michael… you should have!” Kitty teased, turning her head to look at the older man and noticing the deep set lines of his brow as he frowned, obviously fighting some internal struggle. “Hey. I’m sure she doesn’t mind. I get the feeling she can take care of herself, y’know?” She quickly added, trying to placate him. Michael could get himself into some right old funks when he’d had too much to drink. She wished she knew a little more about his past. They’d been friends for a while now and he was like her big brother. But there was a sadness behind his eyes sometimes that she wished she could help make disappear.

“Yeah but she shouldn’t have to” he mumbled, running his hands through his hair and then glanced at Kitty, realising she was watching him closely.

“It’s just that… well it’s late you know? And if that was my sister I wouldn’t want her walking around on her own at this time of night. You never know who’s out there waiting to pounce…” he trailed off and looked away, signalling the conversation closed.

Kitty continued to watch him, wondering if perhaps there was something more to his sudden change in demeanour. He’d been the happiest she’d ever seen him at the quiz earlier, laughing and joking with them all. Maybe he liked to win and thought they had a chance with the extra team member? _Who was she to know? It wasn’t like they’d ever stood a chance before tonight after all._

But tonight they’d only finished six points behind the winners. That was most definitely thanks to Darcey. _Yes, Darcey would definitely have to keep coming with them to the quiz, if only to perk up Michael once a week. Hmm. If only the two of them would get together... Jeez, she could just imagine the cute babies they would make!_

Kitty snorted at her silly thought but thankfully Michael didn't seem to notice. She grinned to herself as she laid her head back against the headrest and started to drift off, the alcohol in her body combining with the soothing motion of the car and making her sleepy.

***

The next five weeks flew by.

Michael and Darcey got into the routine of meeting up twice a week. Darcey would amaze her pub quiz team mates with her ability to identify stately homes just by a random description, her wide knowledge of Greek deities and her ability to name all the moons of Jupiter - _she’d tried her hand at a space/time romance in one of her most desperate moments_. She seemed to bring the best out of the other teammates as well. Their confidence restored, they were now regularly placing second or third in the quiz, that elusive first place still evading them.

The others would take turns to drive, or in the case of Madeline, arrange to be picked up, so they were usually good and drunk by the end of the evening. Darcey however would always have just the one drink, fearing the wrath of Professor Russell if she were to turn up to lectures the following morning hungover.

And then, every Friday after the library closed, Darcey and Michael would grab a few drinks together and catch up on what each other had been up to that week. That usually consisted of Darcey complaining about the café and moaning about Professor Russell and her unrealistic demands for the lecture series. Michael would cheer her up with stories of peculiar requests from library patrons and the occasional personal anecdote, usually about his own studies, although Darcey would note that he always carefully navigated the conversation back to her just as it might threaten to get too personal.

Each of these meetings was completely innocent. Just friends getting together for a drink, a chat and a bit of a laugh. _Much to Darcey’s growing frustration..._

Whenever she analysed the situation she would chastise herself. She'd gone into this 'friendship' with her eyes wide open after all. Michael had told her in the clearest possible way that he wasn't interested in a relationship.

_Even if he did like her..._

_Whatever the hell that actually meant._

So of course she had no reason to be so unhappy about the situation now. Yet deep down, she wasn't ashamed to admit that in her silly romantic mind she’d hoped she might, over time make his resistance fall. Because, _of course_ , she was very much attracted to him. _Jeez, she’d have to be dead not to!_ _The man oozed sex appeal from every damn pore._

But what was possibly even more attractive was his apparent ignorance of the affect he had on women. It should have been laughable the amount of times she’d spotted women in the pub trying to get his attention. From the forty-something barmaid who would lick her lips flirtatiously at him and practically shove her humongous boobs in his face as she brought their drinks over, to the pert young undergraduates who brazenly stared lustfully at him from around the room.

_Christ, even Madeline perked up whenever he came over to her!_

In fact, the only woman who seemed immune to his charms was Kitty, who instead wound him up and teased him relentlessly. Darcey wondered if this was because Kitty had grown up with four brothers, the eldest only a couple of years younger than Michael.

_Ah. Brothers. Yes…_

On hearing that Michael had borrowed a Batman mask from one of Kitty’s brothers all those weeks ago, Darcey had immediately gone off into a crazy fantasy about Michael being her mysterious Batman. It had lasted an entire day, and she’d even headed over to the library after her meeting with Professor Russell the following night to confront him.

Sat in her Mini, engine still running to stave off the chill from the frosty night air, she’d attempted to formulate her little interrogation.

_“Excuse me, Michael..? Are you the Batman who groped me up, sucked on my nipples then legged it, leaving me a quivering wreck?” Noooo… She would just sound like a crazy, desperate woman!_

_Okay... maybe she’d ask him if he was at the ball. But no... Too much time had passed for her to just randomly ask that, surely?_

_“Erm_ _Michael… You borrowed a Batman mask from Kitty’s brother. Why Michael?? Why did you borrow that mask?”…_ _Fuck! She sounded like a damn stalker!_

_Kitty had asked Michael as they’d been getting into the car. While it clearly wasn’t a secret, it also hadn’t been meant for her ears. Darcey told herself there were all manner of reasons why he could have borrowed that mask. And if it was for Halloween, who’s to say he didn’t dress up for a different party? The Corn Exchange hadn’t had the monopoly on Halloween parties after all!_

As she sat there, elbows leant against the steering wheel and head in hands massaging her aching temples, Darcey couldn’t fathom a single way to ask the question she was so desperate to have answered without coming across as some kind of weirdo. And her biggest fear was that she would freak him out or offend him and he wouldn’t want to continue their friendship, _or even worse_ , that she’d discover that it _was_ Michael at the ball only for him to flee _again,_ this time for good.

There was, after all, only so much rejection one woman could take!

So for the sake of the status quo, and her burgeoning friendship, she’d buried her questions and driven home, where she’d drowned out her niggling suspicions with a bottle of red wine and ‘[Hysteria](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3dm_5qWWDV8)’ played disgracefully loud on repeat.

_Ironically, had she only stayed in the car park a minute or two longer another piece of the puzzle would have surely fallen into place as Michael had left work soon after, straddling his bike dressed in his black riding leathers._

_Still, that wasn’t to be. Darcey had never seen Michael wearing his leathers as he considered it to be far too much of a faff to mess about with them for the short journey to and from work unless it was exceptionally cold or torrential raining._

And so here she was, the last Friday before Christmas, sat in the pub with Michael, subconsciously lamenting his complete lack of awareness when it came to the effect he had on women. And his utter blindness to one in particular.

_Her._

He had never repeated his somewhat odd behaviour from that first quiz night with her. Never intentionally touched her hand again. Never complimented her in any way other than platonically. And frankly, he seemed to be oblivious to Darcey’s frustration.

That’s not to say they didn’t still have a great time. He was funny, charismatic and intelligent in all areas except when it came to women. Then, as Darcey had begun to observe, an invisible wall came up. On the occasions where she’d seen Kitty attempting to set him up on blind dates he’d been mortified. And he always refused, much to Darcey’s relief.

She was beginning to feel like a tightly wound spring around him. After each night they met she would practically run up the stairs in her creaky old cottage to take care of the ache he would leave her with in her most intimate parts. 

She would strip off and fall back on her bed, thinking about those eyes, those mesmerising blue eyes that looked at her with such interest when they spoke that she felt like she was drowning in them.

She would imagine that stubbled jaw of his rubbing against her soft skin, leaving her flushed and those big hands of his touching her in such a way that it always ended in her frantic release. Then she would lie there, feeling guilty and foolish that she was somehow tarnishing their friendship with her lewd thoughts and actions.

But the next time she would see him the night would end in exactly the same fashion.

Yet he remained oblivious. He would greet her with a warm smile, if she was lucky his hand might ever-so-lightly graze her back as he guided her through the pub but other than that there was no physical contact.

Nothing.

 _Nada._ _Zilch_.

“Hey… you okay? You seem a bit quiet tonight…” Michael observed, watching Darcey from across the table. They were sat in their usual corner, near the window. It had become a bit of a habit now. She would meet him after work, they would walk over to the pub, order their drinks and then spend the next three hours putting the world to rights.

_And then she would leave him and he’d go home battling with his self-enforced celibacy. Because whether he wanted to admit it or not, the simple truth was he was becoming obsessed with this woman. She was everything a man could possibly want in a partner. Fiercely witty, highly intelligent and drop dead gorgeous. So what the hell was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he take the next step and move on with this woman?_

_She was perfect. It was that simple._

_But he’d thought Laura was perfect too and she’d lied to him. Her deceit had damn near killed him. And though it sounded like a monstrous betrayal, if anything Darcey was even more perfect, if there could be such a thing._

_She was grounded unlike Laura who had always been insistent on seeking out the next big adventure. What’s more, she made him feel human again. Darcey had told him she loved nothing more than curling up on the sofa with a good book or movie, something he craved being able to share with her. But that would mean taking that next step and invading her home life. Her personal space. Her emotional space. The exposed arena of the pub allowed him to navigate around his growing feelings for this woman without having to face the reality that he was just leading her on._

_Because it wasn’t as if she hadn’t made her interest clear after all. She’d told him in as many words and even though he wasn’t the most confident of men these days, he’d seen the way she sometimes looked at him. He knew that when she said she liked him it wasn’t just as a friend. That first quiz night when he’d caught her looking down towards his crotch had stirred him up so bad he’d wanted to grab her right there in the pub. But that moment’s lack of self-control had almost cost him dearly as anger had bubbled to the surface and he’d shouted at her._

_Her confused, contrite face had angered him even more. She wasn’t the one who should have been apologising. She was fucking perfect in his eyes. He was the stupid prick who’d seduced her and then ran off like some horny teenager on a curfew._

_He was that emotionally bankrupt dickhead. Not her._

_But despite her perfection, that fear that she would eventually lie to him and leave him, just like Laura had, nagged at him whenever his resistance began to fail him. So keeping Darcey at arm’s length was the best he could do._  

"Darcey?" he questioned again.

“What? Oh sorry… I guess it’s just that Christmas is a week today and I haven’t even bought a single bloody present yet. _And_ I’ve still got a shit load of stuff to finish before the New Year’s lecture… I can’t believe they had to start with Professor Russell’s this year. And on fucking New Year’s Eve too! I mean, who does that?!” Darcey trailed off with a deep sigh. _And I’m going to miss you Michael, terribly._

Michael chuckled at Darcey's expletive riddled answer. You could tell straight away when she was excited or stressed because her language became pure filth. And he rather liked it if he was being totally honest.

“Are you still going up to Cumbria for Christmas?” Michael’s stomach sunk at the thought of not seeing her for a week. She’d told him her folks owned a very successful farm up in the middle of nowhere and she was meant to be spending Christmas with them, although she’d already confided it probably meant she’d be knee deep in mud and shit after the recent floods in the area.

Michael had worried when she’d told him about the river that ran alongside her parents property bursting its banks and how they'd had to move much of the livestock to higher ground. It sounded treacherous and he’d found himself watching the daily news and weather forecasts avidly, hearing account after account of livelihoods, and worse still, lives being lost through bridge collapses and sinking vehicles.

He’d wanted to beg her not to go.

To stay with him. _Or better still, to come to Ireland with him._

But how the hell could he do that when they were stuck in this innocent friendship? It was completely unfair of him to make demands on her, regardless of his concerns. And it was, after all, _his_ stupid fault they were in this limbo. So once again he bit his tongue, save his real feelings come crashing out.

“Yeah. That is, if the roads remain open…”she groaned and her shoulders slumped. Michael saw the worry in her face.

“Hey, I’m sure your parents would understand if you couldn’t make it” he tried to make her feel better. From what she’d spoken of them, they sounded like pretty chilled out people and it was clear that they loved each other dearly. _Not that he could imagine anyone not loving darcey_ , he thought biasedly. “And I bet they wouldn’t want you to put yourself in danger either…” His voice trailed off, looking at her pointedly. _I don’t want you putting yourself in danger Darcey. Do you understand that?_

“I know, but I _have_ to… visit them, that is... not put myself in danger! I mean, _I want to visit them, of course_. I haven’t seen them since summer. But also, they need all the help they can get at the moment, so yeah..."

She paused and sighed deeply at Michael’s frown. "You should know Michael. Didn’t you say your parents owned a restaurant? Consumption of quality cuts of meat goes up tenfold over the holiday period, which means restaurants like your parents’ demand more deliveries… and that means suppliers like my parents are run off their feet as well. They do everything in house you see, from the rearing to butchery to the deliveries”

Michael nodded in silence, beginning to understand the pressure that her parents must be under, just like his own used to be. He explained to Darcey that they had retired recently, but that the restaurant had been a huge part of all of his family’s life and he knew just how much work went into keeping it running.

“So I get it. I do, but Darcey… be careful love. Nothing is that important that it’s worth risking your life over.”

Her eyes fixed on him then, apparently mulling over his words.

_Shit._

_It had just slipped out_. He often used the term ‘ _love’_ so innocuously, but was exceptionally careful _not_  to use it around Darcey. He prayed she didn’t read something into it, even though as he’d said it he’d meant it more sincerely than he’d ever done before.

But he needn’t have worried. If she did notice she didn’t say a word. Instead she asked about his Christmas plans, even though she already knew them inside out. He was flying back over to Ireland on Christmas Eve morning and spending the holidays with his extended family.

Darcey watched his face light up as he spoke about his family, yet his eyes betrayed a sadness that beguiled her.

He really was a conundrum to her at times. It often seemed like he was constantly fighting some internal battle with himself. She wondered if it was his dual heritage. Darcey, just like Michael was immensely proud of her Irish roots, and believed it was the reason she was so fascinated with storytelling. She’d mentioned this to Michael and was pleasantly surprised when he’d excitedly shared the same feelings, although he’d noted that, being half German, there was a side to him that constantly wants 'to keep everything in control, and the Irish side wants to wreak havoc'.  _  
_

She’d laughed at those words at the time but the more she grew to know him, it seemed that he was indeed fighting a daily struggle.

“It really does sound wonderful Michael. I wish I could go back to Ireland more often. I haven’t seen my grandparents for such a long, long time” she frowned, trying to work out exactly how many months it had been. _Too damn long_.

She decided right then that she would make time in the summer holidays and stay with them for a month or so. They weren’t getting any younger after all.

As the night drew to an end the pair of them had grown quiet as they nursed the remnants of their drinks and sat in almost melancholy silence. Both had much on their mind. It was almost a bittersweet relief when they finally parted, their customary smiles and waves the only concession to their otherwise subdued moods as each secretly dwelled on the state of their friendship and their impending time away from one another.

They would, of course see each other once more before Christmas. The pub had organised a Christmas theme for the final quiz night of the year and the _Archivists_ , as they called themselves, would be in attendance. Darcey consoled herself with that thought as she cried into her pillow that night. Exhaustion, frustration, and maybe just a bit too much Kopparberg had assaulted her senses, leaving her anxious and emotional.

Maybe going away for a few days was exactly what she needed.

_Maybe, she needed a break from Michael._

She groaned and gripped the pillow tighter, knowing that what she _really_ needed was a good, hard shag from Michael. But that the likelihood of _that_  ever happening was practically zero.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, sorry about how long this chapter has taken. My stupid eyes have been doing silly things, meaning I can't write for any extended period of time. Anyhoo, I hope you enjoy it and would love to hear what you think.  
> Apologies for the angst in this chapter but it was always intended to play out as a really slow burn. Michael is stubbornly fighting his feelings and Darcey is desperate not to frighten him away... But we're nearing the finish lines now so stay with me because hopefully it'll be worth the wait...  
> *coughs* No pressure!
> 
> A couple of references:  
> * Koppaberg is a brand of cider, one of my absolute favourites. The mixed berry flavour is delicious but a little too easy to drink if you know what I mean! Darcey certainly does..!  
> * [I love this Fassy interview, hence the quote.](http://irishamerica.com/2012/07/the-year-of-michael-fassbender/)  
> * The floods in Cumbria (and other parts of the British Isles) are a real thing at the moment. To any overseas readers, the simple fact is that 'Great Britain' isn't that great at dealing with any kind of weather... And we do love a good moan about that very fact, but my heart goes out to all those affected with the most recent floods. <3
> 
> Next Chapter... Christmas/New Year's Lectures...


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter fourteen jumps around a little as there are a series of flashbacks (separated by *** for a week ago and * for that night. Both are written in italic ~ Hopefully it isn’t too confusing)
> 
> I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it... <3

** Chapter Fourteen **

**_“After the first glass of absinthe you see things as you wish they were. After the second you see them as they are not. Finally you see things as they really are, and that is the most horrible thing in the world…” ~ Oscar Wilde_ **

 ~~~~~

“It’s a date”

The comment had been made so casually that Michael barely realised what he’d said.

But Darcey had physically blanched and turned back to face him, her eyes fierce as her lips began to tremble.

_No. She was not going to cry. Not this time!_

“Well. No. It isn’t… is it?” she’d managed to spit out, making Michael’s nose wrinkle in confusion.

“Sorry… what?”

“I _said_ …” Darcey had taken a deep breath, already knowing she was going to regret this but not able to stop the words which would come next “It isn’t… Michael… is it?”

Michael had continued to stare at her, his steely blue eyes not giving any hint that he understood where she was trying to go with this line of questioning. And that very fact had just made Darcey even more infuriated because for an intelligent man he sure knew how to act like a dumb fool.

“It _isn’t_ a fucking date… _is it?”_ she’d finally hissed, relieved at least to see the cogs begin to turn as Michael’s shoulders had drooped and his jaw had tensed.

But she hadn’t finished there. Her resolve had been weakened when she’d downed the whiskey, and all her long oppressed frustrations had begun to bubble to the surface.

“Because… Michael…” she’d drawled out his name with a deep sigh “ _if_ we were going on dates I’m pretty fucking certain that we might have, _at the very least_ , had a bloody snog by now!”

He’d opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again, reminding her of a goldfish before the juncture where his nose met his forehead had furrowed into two deep lines as he’d digested her words.

 _Fucking say something Michael._ _Say. Something. Please!_ She’d silently begged.

But no. The fucking coward hadn’t opened his mouth. So it had been left to Darcey to stumble blindly on. And stumble on she had, because there was no going back now.

“I know you said you’re “not looking for someone right now” ” Darcey had air-quoted “but just exactly how long _is_ ‘right now’ _Michael_? Is it this week, this month, this year or _for-fucking-eternity.._? Because in case you hadn’t noticed, neither one of us is getting any younger… And I for one most certainly don’t want to spend the rest of my life alone! If it’s just _me_ you’re not interested in, please Michael, for the love of God and all that’s holy just tell me… _please!_ Just put me out of my fucking misery!” her bottom lip had trembled traitorously as she’s spat out those final words but her eyes had continued to stare defiantly into his.

In her heart she’d known she was being unfair. His words back in the library all those many weeks ago had just been a gentlemanly fob off. Unlike herself, he’d never once attempted to flirt with her. He’d never given her false hope. They were merely friends. And here she was making demands on him that he clearly did not wish to reciprocate.

Michael had continued to stand in silence, his blue eyes not revealing anything but shock while his jaw had ticked mercilessly as he continued to tense it. Darcey had gulped back her tears, realising she had gone and done it now. There was no way back from this. The best she could possibly hope for was that he didn’t just tell her to piss off. That thought scared her, because for all her gobby bravado, she couldn’t imagine not having him in her life. All she could think about was how she could somehow backtrack on her venomous words but as she’d opened her mouth to apologise the door had swung open with a flurry.

“Ah! There you are Darcey! We’ve been looking all over for you! We’re on now!” Professor Russell had brusquely grabbed Darcey’s arm and pulled her back into the room and up onto the stage, completely oblivious to the simmering tension she had just disturbed.

The lecture went by in a blur, with everyone applauding both the professor and herself at the end and asking questions which she managed to answer, albeit robotically.

Afterwards she was presented to a group of faculty whom the professor wanted her to meet. How Darcey ever made it through the next couple of hours she would never know.

 _Actually, that was a lie._ She knew exactly how she made it through.

Tequila.

_And lots of it._

It started as a dare from one of the professors. Apparently it was tradition for the guest speakers to down a shot of absinthe in the spirit of the great nineteenth-century writers and their addiction to the ‘ _Green Fairy’_. But someone had royally fucked up this year and forgot to order the intoxicating concoction. So an alternative was hastily searched for and a bottle of tequila was finally produced in lieu.

Darcey should have known from the start that, Michael aside, the night was not going to end well. On the rare occasions she’d drunk tequila she’d passed out, with no memory of her evening.

Maybe subconsciously that was why, after the initial shot, she’d insisted on another. And maybe that was why, when the speakers had all consumed their shots she’d ordered herself a margarita from the passing waiter. Then another. She’d lost count after the third and as she began to sway precariously on her sky high black stilettos she’d excused herself and slipped away to the restroom.

As she’d teetered into the bathroom stall and collapsed onto the toilet seat, head in hands, she’d replayed the last week over and over in her head, hazily trying to work out where the hell she was going to go from here now with Michael.

 

***

 

_The Christmas quiz had been a riotous success. They had finally taken first place and the four of them had been joyous. Darcey had left her car at home that evening so she could finally join her companions in a festive drink, although she’d sworn she wasn’t going to drink too much as she had a treacherous drive to Cumbria ahead of her the following day._

_Still, she’d definitely been filled with Christmas cheer as they’d all sat singing along to Christmas songs from the jukebox after the quiz had finished. Lubricated with alcohol, Darcey had grown a little bolder around Michael and at one point had draped her arm over his shoulder as they sang along to **[Fairytale of New York](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HwHyuraau4Q)** , the two of them taking on the main singing roles much to the other patron’s amusement._

_Had they been sober, it was likely that neither one would have sung the loaded lyrics with such gusto, particularly Michael as he’d sung “I love you baby, I can see a better time when all our dreams come true”, but Darcey had been relieved that he at least had the decency to try to look genuine. At the end of the song they’d broken away from one another and sat a little awkwardly, neither one daring to look at the other. Darcey had silently prayed to God that ‘All I want for Christmas is you’ didn’t come on next and was rewarded with [I wish it could be Christmas every day](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZoxQ4Ul_DME), heaving a sigh of relief. _

_Maybe there was a God after all!_

_Soon enough it had been time to leave and they’d all piled out of the pub to find the air cold and crisp against their heated cheeks._

_“We might yet get snow for Christmas!” Madeline had grinned up at the sky, assessing the clouds._

_“Well just so long as it comes after my flight in the morning” Michael had groaned “My mum will not be happy if I cancel again!”_

_Darcey had wondered what he’d meant by that but didn’t say anything, the arrival of the taxi interrupting her thoughts. They’d piled in and headed first in the direction of Madeline’s house._

_They’d all hugged her goodnight, wishing her a wonderful Christmas and then it was on to Kitty’s. Once again they’d hugged, much to the taxi driver’s growing annoyance. And then Darcey and Michael had found themselves alone in the back of the taxi as the car slowly navigated the icy roads towards Michael’s flat. They’d argued about the route, Michael thinking it better that Darcey be dropped off before him, being a woman on her own and all that, but she’d rejected the idea, her cottage being further afield than Michael’s. And so they’d continued on in an almost uncomfortable silence._

_As they’d finally pulled up in front of the security gate to Michael’s complex he’d stopped the driver._

_“Here will do mate.” He’d indicated and jumped out of the car, only to suddenly remember himself and walk around to Darcey’s side. She’d opened the door, unsure whether to get out or not, but then realising it would look weird if she hugged everyone else and didn’t hug him. So, doing her best to pull her skirt down so as not to flash too much thigh, she’d swung her legs round onto the tarmac, wobbling precariously, and clambered out._

_Alcohol and heels really were a match made in hell for Darcey and she’d stumbled forward. Michael had grabbed her hand to steady her and then let go almost as quickly._

_Okay, so they were back to poisonous touch then, were they? Lovely!_

_They’d both stood silently, neither one making any attempt to move. The street light illuminated their faces and Darcey had glanced up through her lashes nervously to find Michael looking down at her, his expression impenetrable._

_Fuck Darcey. Just hug him and go damn it! You don’t need this kind of stress woman, she’d cursed herself._

_She’d awkwardly shuffled forward on her heels, arms outstretched like a zombie and her cheek had crashed into his solid chest as he’d seemingly had the same idea. Mumbling ‘Merry Christmas Michael’ she’d felt his own hands encircle her shoulders and squeeze infinitesimally. She’d felt his warm chest move against her cold cheek as he’d let out a long sigh and she’d tried to pull away, realising she must have been making him feel awkward as she clung to him like a limpet, but his arms remained around her shoulders, neither embracing nor allowing her to escape._

_Disconcerted, she’d closed her eyes for a moment and allowed herself to sneakily breathe in his scent, revelling in the rare closeness. He’d smelt so good. So familiar… and she’d inadvertently let out her own little whimper before attempting to disguise it with a cough and shifted her gaze upwards. Had it just been the alcohol coursing through her veins or had his arms started to tighten around her shoulders?_

_The sound of the taxi’s horn had made them both jump and Michael had instantly broke away from her. Darcey had turned and glared at the taxi driver who sat staring impatiently out of his window at the two of them._

_Fuck! Well he’d just kissed goodbye to any tip!_

_“Have a fantastic Christmas Darcey…” Michael’s deep voice had startled her back to reality and she’d turned towards him. He had taken a step backwards, distancing himself once more and had been looking at the floor, his hands now shoved deep into his jeans pockets._

_“Yeah… you too” she’d whispered, her teeth beginning to chatter in the cold night air as she’d turned back towards the car and internally groaned. Now that she'd experienced his touch properly she had no idea how the hell she was ever going to be able to think of anything else tonight._

_As she’d pulled open the taxi’s door his voice behind her had made her jump “Be careful Darcey. Remember what I said. Please…” There had been an insistence in his voice which had made her heart quicken._

_Slipping into the seat she’d looked up and found him stood over her, holding the car door open. His forehead had been drawn in concern and she’d felt butterflies in her tummy. Could it be that he was genuinely worried about her?!_

_Even if it was just as a friend, it had to be better than nothing, surely?_

_She’d put on her best smile “I’ll be fine Michael. Go get inside, its freezing!”_

_“Right… yeah…” Michael had muttered before continuing “Oh fuck it…” and had crouched down in front of the open door, ignoring the loud huff from the taxi driver._

_Startled, Darcey had watched on as he’d fumbled around in his jacket pocket before pulling out a somewhat worse for wear package, wrapped in silver Christmas paper and adorned with a squashed bow made from blue velvet ribbon. He’d shoved it towards Darcey sheepishly and she’s taken it, no doubt looking stunned._

_“Michael…” she’d started, not sure what to say._

_“I saw it a few weeks back and thought it would be perfect” Michael had interrupted “I was gonna give it to you next week after the lecture but you may as well have it to open on Christmas day I guess…” he’d rambled, almost apologetically._

_“Oh… I feel terrible now. I didn’t realise we were buying Christmas presents?!” Darcey had frowned in confusion, trying to fathom how she’d missed that conversation._

_“No… no… we’re not. I… I just… well I saw it and thought of you, that’s all… it’s nothing big… don’t worry”_

_Darcey had stared at him then, still crouched in front of the open car door and had grabbed his hand, squeezing it tightly, lest he could pull away again._

_“Thank you Michael. You really didn’t need to do that… but thank you”_

_The taxi driver had beeped his horn again impatiently and Michael had turned his head towards the man, glaring at him before releasing himself from Darcey’s clutch and standing back up. He’d closed the car door and stepped back onto the kerb, continuing to scowl at the taxi driver._

_If looks could kill Darcey felt certain she’d have been driving that taxi home herself that evening._

_As the car finally pulled away she’d waved at Michael, her heart pounding in her chest at the strange turn of events. She’d turned the parcel over in her hands, allowing her fingers to loop through the squashed bow as she’d held it to her chest and had smiled to herself. Whatever this was, Michael had seen it and thought of her._

_He’d thought of her!_

_***_

From his spot at the bar, Michael had watched Darcey downing drink after drink as she chatted to the group of academics. He was too chicken to talk to her again, knowing she would no doubt want to continue where she’d left off and that he would have to finally admit he was emotionally stunted and face losing her forever.

He was angry at himself but he was also angry at her.

_Why couldn’t she have just kept her mouth shut and left well alone?_

Even as he thought it he knew he was being selfish. And he knew he was being totally unfair. She deserved so much better than him. She deserved someone who could give her what she craved. Love and companionship. He wanted desperately to be able to give her both but something was still, _even now,_ holding him back.

_Fear._

_Fuck! It was all such a goddamn mess._ Worse still, it was all his _own_ stupid fault. He should have just let her go that first night in the library. Should’ve just continued to be alone, not allowing someone like her into his life. He’d sensed she was dangerous from the fucking start and yet here he was, even now, unable to leave.

He looked down at his watch. It was just after eleven. The night had descended into an impromptu New Year’s Eve party, someone having connected their iPhone to the AV speakers while everyone danced to an Eighties playlist.

_Fucking perfect way to end the year Michael! Here you are, once again stood nursing your drink, on your own, in a room full of people you don’t give a shit about and who don’t give a fuck about you._

But that wasn’t true.

There _was_ one person Michael gave a shit about. _But where was she?_ She hadn’t returned to the group of lecturers he’d been stood spying on. He cast his gaze over the crowded room, searching for her sleek black dress in amongst all the garishly dressed revellers.

Jesus but she’d looked incredible tonight.

*

_His jaw had dropped when he’d first spotted her, tugging nervously at the plunging neckline of the floor length black gown. It was such a simple dress really but the way it clung to her curves had made him gasp. He’d stood for a moment, just watching her, needing to just watch her as he tried to get over the cravings that had surged straight to his cock at the sight of that deliciously exposed cleavage. If he didn’t know better he’d have sworn she had worn it specifically to torment him._

_ _

_The sight had brought back those long repressed memories of the Ball, Darcey sat astride his lap, his lips trailing over her glorious breasts. It seemed like so long ago now and as he’d surreptitiously watched her he’d let out a low groan of desire._

_He’d moved to stand behind a nearby coat stand and attempted to adjust himself. There was no way he could go over there in this state. He’d be like a walking advert for fucking Viagra. Not that he needed any of that shit. One look at Darcey would easily have the desired effect._

_As he’d waited for gravity to take over he’d started to fidget with his tie. The dress code had required him to wear formal wear, and he’d felt uncomfortable as soon as he’d slipped into his dark three piece suit, it being so far removed from what he’d normally wear. He’d run his hand through his short hair nervously, his mum having nagged him into getting another haircut, telling him he looked a scruffy mess. He hadn’t wanted an argument having not seen her in so long and had finally conceded, but his dad’s barber had practically scalped him._

_Finally feeling his erection ebb away he’d adjusted himself one last time and started to make his way over towards her. As he did so he’d thanked the Lord for causing his flight to be delayed. There was no way he’d have coped sat in the taxi with her in this state. They’d originally arranged to come together, Michael knowing she’d be nervous, but fog had delayed take off and he’d had to text Darcey, apologising and telling her to go on without him. He’d explained he would drop his bags at the flat, quickly change and meet her there, hopefully in time to see her speak. Her response had been somewhat terse, but he’d put that down to nerves:_

**D: Right. You don’t _have_ to come you know!**

_He’d immediately responded:_

**_M: As your friend, I’ve got to come! It’s my duty, if only to stop you freaking out or to pick you up when you faint! ;) Besides, Prof Russell will hang, draw and quarter me if I don’t turn up anyway! :D_ **

_He’d thought she’d laugh at that. They’d talked a lot about her standing up in front of everyone and she’d confessed all the fears she had: from tripping up; to forgetting her lines; or worst of all fainting! Yet her response was just as cryptic:_

**_D: Whatever. What would I do without a ‘friend’ like you?_ **

_On first glance he hadn’t thought too much of it, but as he’d stared at the inverted commas around ‘friend’ in the taxi from the airport he’d frowned. Was that veiled sarcasm? Maybe it was just him over-thinking things but it had seemed like a bit of a dig somehow. He’d sent another text asking if she was okay but hadn’t got a response. Probably hadn’t seen it, he’d thought, looking at the time on the dash of the taxi and realising she’d already be at the[Queens](http://www.qhotels.co.uk/our-locations/the-queens/)._

 

 

_And so, one quick shower and change of clothes later, he’d finally arrived at the function room within the art deco hotel. He’d been relieved to discover that a fifteen minute intermission had been scheduled before Professor Russell and Darcey took to the stage. As he’d approached Darcey she’d been oblivious, staring across at the lectern, her eyes wide like a startled rabbit. He’d felt the nerves coming off of her even from this distance and had patted his breast pocket reassuringly. He’d had a feeling she’d be needing some Dutch courage and had come prepared._

_“Darcey!” he’d tapped her on the shoulder and she’d jumped. As she’d taken in his appearance her expressive brown eyes had gone wide with shock._

_Fuck! He’d known it! Stupid bloody barber._ _He must’ve looked like a prize prick!_

_“Don’t say a bloody word!” he’d laughed as he’d dragged his fingers through what remained of his hair but she’d just stared at him, her lips parted slightly. He’d noticed then that her hands were visibly shaking and, doing his best not to stare at the outline of her nipples through the thin fabric, (really? Was she fucking trying to kill him), he’d noticed her chest rising and falling rapidly. Never mind fainting on stage. She’d looked like she was just about ready to collapse there and then. Taking matters into his own hands he’d flashed her a glimpse of the hip flask he’d hidden in his breast pocket and gestured to the doorway behind him._

_Mutely she’d followed him and once in the hallway he’d handed her the flask. He’d watched on wordlessly as she’d unscrewed the lid and unceremoniously knocked back half its contents._

_“Steady now!” he’d warned, grabbing the flask from her still shaking hand and waiting for her to give him the lid “That's my best Jameson's! You don’t want to get up there pissed do you?!”_

_She’d snorted at that and rolled her eyes. It was the first sound she’d made and her demeanour had started to worry him. Something was clearly wrong but fuck only knew what it was._

_“Would it even matter? Really?” she’d suddenly muttered and looked up at him._

_“What? Of course it would Darcey? Look I don’t know what's up… I mean, I know you’re nervous and all but you need to calm down. This is a big deal but it’s not worth getting yourself in a state about now, is it?” Michael had tried to soothe her, not really understanding why she seemed to be venting at him in particular._

_She’d sighed then straightened one of the ornate earrings dangling from her delicate lobes before running her hand nervously through the loose waves of her hair._

_“You look… well… amazing by the way!” he’d complimented, keeping his eyes strictly trained on her hand as it smoothed her forehead for his own sanity. No way had he dared look down._

_She’d looked up and caught his eyes. Her pupils had dilated and he’d heaved a sigh of relief, assuming the alcohol had finally started to calm her nerves._

_“You too…” she’d almost whispered “You should wear a suit more often. Suits you Sir!”_

_His mouth had broke into a wide grin as he’d watched her fidgeting with her dress, then her hair, then her dress again._

_Jeez she really was stressed, bless her. “We scrub up well don’t we!” he’d tried to distract her and she’d stopped moving her hands for a moment._

_“I guess so”_

_She’d smiled at him then. It had been the first smile he’d seen on her face since he’d left her that frosty night before Christmas and it lit up the hallway. It had made him want to ask her about her present, and whether she had spotted his note._

_But then Darcey had glanced at her watch, biting her lip._

_He’d instinctively known she must’ve been due on stage, just by the sudden change in her demeanour._

_“I’d better get back out there, they’ll be looking for me” she’d sighed and after a moment she’d fixed him with a stare. “Thank you for being here Michael. It means a lot to me. Will you have a drink with me afterwards… and not from your flask?” she’d laughed nervously then before continuing “I mean, I realise its New Year’s Eve and everything and you probably have somewhere else to be…”_

_"_ _It’s_ _a date”_

_..._

 

***

Yes! It really was a goddamn mess…

 

Michael started to prowl the room, like a shark seeking out its prey. Only his sights were on Darcey.

When he finally spotted her, she was propped up on a chair in the corner of the room, and partially shrouded by the curtains. As he approached he looked down warily at her, not sure how she was going to react to seeing him again after her earlier outburst. He needn’t have worried though, for she was snoring softly.

_Here’s your opportunity to just split Michael._

His common sense was screaming at him to just get the hell out of there but as he looked around, the only person he could see who he would trust to get Darcey home was Professor Russell and there was no way he was going to put Darcey through that torment. He’d already been responsible for her nearly getting kicked out of her lectures. He just couldn’t do that to her.

With a sigh of resignation he’d bent down and gently shook her arm.

“Wha…ttt?” she groaned, smacking her lips together and allowing her head to loll back against the wall, taunting him with her exposed neck and décolleté.

“ _For fuck sake_ ” he hissed under his breath and tried again.  

This time her eyes opened and she lifted her head up, albeit wobbly, and stared glassily at Michael.

“Oh helloooo there Mr Fast…Bender” she’d giggled “Are you though? Are you fast around the bends with your _big_ machine?” she drawled, snorting at her own feeble joke.

Raising his eyebrows he decided he wasn’t even going to start to think about what the hell that was supposed to mean and cautiously rested one hand on her shoulder.

“Darcey… I think it’s time we got you home, don’t you?” he smiled patiently at her and she nodded, a little more aggressively that was strictly necessary, reminding him of a head-banger at a heavy metal gig and he couldn’t help but laugh at the similarity.

“Okay, then… Do you think you can walk?” he helped her up and she immediately fell forwards, going limp against his muscular frame, her mouth hanging open. He sighed, not having intended to get this close to her but hating to admit he liked the way her soft body had instinctively moulded against him. He knew there was no way she was going to be able to walk so with another reluctant sigh he scooped her up and carried her out into the foyer of the hotel where the concierge flagged down a taxi.

Sliding her into the back seat, he slipped in alongside her and leant over her to grab her seat belt.

“Good night?” the cabbie grinned through the rear view mirror as he surveyed the car crash that was a very, very drunken Darcey attempting to hit Michael as he pulled the seat belt across her, while he ducked and swerved her hand.

"Darcey! pack it in!" Michael growled at her, narrowly avoiding a slap across his head.

“Where to mate?”

Michael gently shook Darcey’s arm and she moaned grumpily “Darcey… hey Darcey… what’s your address love?”

“Mmm… love... cottage…” she smacked her lips again and then leant her head towards him and closed her eyes, starting to snore.

And with that the decision had been made. With a huff Michael had no choice but to recite his own address and the taxi sped off into the night.

It looked like he would be having a house guest tonight...


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As with Chapter 14 there is a flashback (separated by *** for a week ago and written in italic ~ Hopefully it isn’t too confusing)
> 
> Oh and erm... If you haven't read Little Women there may be spoilers ahead... just saying!

** Chapter Fifteen** 

**_“It's no good trying to get rid of your own aloneness. You've got to stick to it all your life. Only at times, at times, the gap will be filled in. At times! But you have to wait for the times. Accept your own aloneness and stick to it, all your life. And then accept the times when the gap is filled in, when they come. But they've got to come. You can't force them.”  ~ D.H. Lawrence, Lady Chatterley's Lover_**

~~~~~

The taxi pulled up alongside the gates to Michael’s block of flats and he found himself wedged between the door and Darcey, who had curled up alongside him on the journey home. He sighed as he tried to untangle her from his arm, needing to get into his pocket to access the security fob for the gates.

“No… don’t go… please…” she whimpered and sleepily clung even tighter to him “please... don’t leave me.”

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

The taxi driver turned and winked “Tell you what son, give me your pass and I’ll nip out, save disturbing your girlfriend before you have to. She won’t thank you for it!” he offered kindly.

Michael opened his mouth to correct him but instead just sighed. Truth was, he didn’t have the energy and besides, he kind of liked the way it had sounded. Regardless of the truth of it.

He awkwardly slid his hand into his trouser pocket, fishing around for his keys, inadvertently stroking Darcey’s thigh through the fabric in the process. She moaned and tightened her grip on him, turning slightly in her seat in an attempt to get closer but restricted somewhat by the seat belt.

Michael finally found them and swiftly removed them from his pocket, doing his best not to disturb Darcey as he leaned forward slightly and handed them to the taxi driver. As he sat back she somehow managed to wriggle even closer so that her ample breasts now pressed right up against his suited arm.

_Jesus H Christ. He was in some personal hell right now._

The taxi driver opened the gates and climbed back into the cab, handing the keys back to Michael. He chuckled as he took in the sight of the pair of them.

“Looks like someone’s going to be seeing out 2012 with a bang mate! My wife’s exactly the same after a drink… passes out but then when she comes round she’s bloody insatiable!” he winked conspiratorially at him through the rear view mirror and started to pull into the car park.

Michael frowned and glanced down at the sleeping Darcey.

_This was, without doubt, shaping up to be the worst idea he’d ever had. And he’d had some stinkers over the years… What if the taxi driver was right about Darcey? Michael knew he was running on empty when it came to willpower right now._

Finally reaching the flats he quickly paid the driver, who then came around and opened his door for him. Michael half slid, half scooped Darcey’s sleeping body towards him and then lifted her up bridal style. He thanked the driver and made his way to the communal door, his keys wrapped around his fingers.

Darcey’s head lolled back over his arm as he fumbled to enter the security code and once in the lift he leant wearily against the mirrored wall waiting for it to climb to his floor. All the while he tried not to stare at Darcey, laid out prone in his arms. Her exposed décolleté tantalised him and he squeezed his eyes closed to stop the mirrored walls from taunting him from every angle.  

Finally they reached his floor and stalking quickly to his front door he fumbled to get his key into the lock, trying his best not to hit Darcey’s head against the doorframe at the same time. He was all fingers and thumbs and his hands were shaking.

_If she would only stay asleep he’d be safe..._

As if she were telepathic Darcey started to struggle in his arms and he instinctively clung tighter, worried she’d fall. Her legs kicked furiously and he heard the loud thump of her shoes as they flew off and crashed heavily onto the tiled floor.

“Lemme go! _Put. Me. Down!”_ she hissed and her eyes opened, wide yet unfocused as he carried her towards the sofa.

“Darcey… _Hey_... Hey... It’s okay. It’s me… Michael. You’re safe” he tried to soothe her with his softly melodic voice as she wriggled in his arms. He also tried his best not to look down, knowing her movements would surely be making her already exposed chest move in all sorts of ways he would immediately be bewitched by.

 _One of them needed to keep a calm, clear head tonight_.

Now more than ever, Michael had to be strong. She was drunk. She was not in control of her senses right now. And there was no way he would ever take advantage of a woman in this state.

No way in hell.

In hindsight, the fact that Michael was even debating any of this should have hinted at his true feelings towards Darcey and acted as a warning of what was to come but he was so busy making these resolutions that he couldn’t see the reality right in front of his nose.

And so he propped her up on the sofa, so that her head was supported by the corner cushion. She closed her eyes once more and he stepped away, pacing back and forth as he debated what to do next.

Occasionally he would glance over towards her sleeping form and pause, taking in her easy breathing and the vulnerability in her face. Her small hands clutched the large cushion by her head and now and then she would let out a breathy, contented little sigh and cuddle even closer still to the cushion.

He couldn’t be certain, but it was almost as if she thought she was still in the car and he was the cushion and he felt an odd sensation in his chest.

_Jealousy._

He shook his head at his own stupidity. _Fuck! Who the hell gets jealous of a flaming cushion?! This woman… This woman had really done a number on him._

With one more furtive glance at her he headed for the balcony. He desperately needed some fresh air.

_He needed to clear his head._

Sliding open one of the full length glass doors he headed outside onto the small balcony. He liked the view from up here. On a clear night like tonight he could see right across to the city centre with all its glittering lights in one direction, and the darkness of the rolling countryside in the opposite direction.

It was a calming oasis in amongst the hustle and bustle of his hectic yet lonely life.

He gripped the handrail and took a deep cleansing breath, trying to decide what to do now. _In an ideal world he would wake her up, ply her with lots of strong coffee and some painkillers and call her a cab once she was sober enough to tell him her address._

Yes, that was most definitely the sensible thing to do. After all, if she wasn’t here, she couldn’t keep tormenting him.  _Making him want to look after her._

Making him _want_ her.

But even as he thought about going back inside to wake her he knew he could never do that. She was vulnerable in this state. As a friend _\-  he reminded himself_ , it was his job to protect her, not just palm her off into some waiting taxi with God only knows who sat behind the wheel. He shuddered at the thought. He’d instinctively gone into protector mode when he found her passed out at the party and it disconcerted him.

He closed his eyes and took another deep breath, rolling his head and shrugging his shoulders in an attempt to release some of the tension which had been building up there ever since he’d arrived at the lecture.

In the far off distance of the city centre he heard a loud bang, followed by what first sounded like fire crackers before he realised they were fireworks. He glanced down at his watch, realising it was midnight just as the dark sky lit up with a myriad of colours.

“Happy New Year Mike!” he muttered under his breath and let out a low grunt of frustration.

 

Darcey woke, startled at what sounded like gunshots. She sat bolt upright and took in her surroundings.

_Where the hell was she?_

The last thing she remembered was spilling her margarita as she sat down in the corner of the function room, trying not to let her frustrated tears fall yet again. She was such an idiot.

_It was no wonder Michael didn’t want her. She was a fucking mess._

_Michael... Oh crap!_

She’d been vile to him.

And after he’d bought her the leather bound copy of _Little Women_ as well. Such a thoughtful yet unexpected gift…

 

***

_She’d been so shocked when she’d unwrapped it on Christmas morning, it being her one and only gift as she’d sat shivering in bed alone in her little cottage._

_Christmas Eve had proved to be an unmitigated disaster, heavy snow having fallen overnight and resulting in the only pass to her parent’s farm being closed. By the time the snowfall had died down it was already dark and she’d reluctantly had to turn back and admit defeat. Her parents, being the eternal pragmatists that they were, had told her not to worry and to stay indoors and keep safe, then arranged to see her early in the New Year._

_And so Darcey had spent her Christmas alone, re-reading Louisa May Alcott’s classic tale and wondering if she was destined to end up just like Jo March, giving up her writing career to become a teacher before eventually marrying a kind and steadfast German who might not be particularly dashing, but who was kind and would always look after her. She’d groaned at the sad realisation that she was well on her way to at least two of those things already…_

_She’d tried to ring Michael to thank him for the book, however her phone wouldn’t connect. She didn’t know if it was because of the weather in Yorkshire – It had started to snow again on Christmas morning – or if, just like at her grandparent’s farm in Ireland, Michael didn’t get good mobile reception wherever it was his parents lived. She’d realised at that moment just how little she actually knew about him. He was always so evasive when it came to talking about anything personal._

_Not wanting her thanks to go unsaid she’d typed out a text message instead:_

**_D: Wow, thank you for my gift Michael! But you really shouldn’t have. Wherever did you find it? It’s truly beautiful!_ ** **_Merry Christmas! :)_ **

_As she’d read it back it sounded so impersonal. It didn’t even begin to describe how touched she was. But she knew she had to at least try to express her gratitude and so she’d sent her lame message, although she’d never got a confirmation of its receipt._

_It had been late Christmas night while she’d been sat under a thick blanket in her cosy armchair, nursing a large glass of whiskey in one hand and her book in the other. She had reached chapter thirty-one and began to read. As she’d turned the page she’d stopped in her tracks, discovering a delicate bookmark embroidered with her initials. She’d ran her index finger over the intricate Celtic needlework and had a strange sense of déjà vu. She’d seen needlework like that before somewhere but couldn’t for the life of her place it._

_Still, it was another personal touch which made her question Michael’s motives. She’d tried to put aside the nervous excitement which had begun to bubble up in her belly at the thought that Michael had done all this just for her._

_Surely this had to prove he wanted more than just friendship? Didn’t it?_

_Taking a long sip of her whiskey, she’d laid down her glass and placed the bookmark carefully on the arm of her chair. She’d checked her mobile again. Still no confirmation her text had been sent and no new messages. She’d frowned and tried to concentrate on reading the rest of the chapter, feeling the whiskey starting to take effect._

_As she'd read Amy March’s letter about her travels to Europe she came across the highlighted verse. First she was shocked. Who would do such a thing to such a beautiful book? Surely not Michael?_

**_‘ “Oh, have you e'er heard of Kate Kearney?_ **

**_She lives on the banks of Killarney;_ **

**_From the glance of her eye,_ **

**_Shun danger and fly,_ **

**_For fatal's the glance of Kate Kearney”_ **

**_Wasn’t that nonsensical? ’_ **

_Darcey had stared at the verse, re-reading it over and over again. Amy March was right. It was completely nonsensical… had this text already been highlighted or had Michael done it? Who was Kate Kearney supposed to be? Where was Killarney? Darcey’s head had grown fuzzy with the whiskey and a million and one questions flying around in her mind and had reluctantly closed the book, setting it on the coffee table and trudged upstairs to bed._

_She’d dreamt of Michael that night, just like every other night recently. Only this time her name wasn’t Darcey, it was Kate and the two of them stood outside a picturesque cottage, Michael’s arm rested comfortably around her shoulders as they both looked wistfully out across an enchanting lake._

_Over the following days she’d over analysed every theme, every character and every nuance of the book, wondering if she’d missed something in the highlighted text. Had they discussed the passage at some point and she’d just forgotten? Michael knew Little Women formed a large proportion of the essay she would be reading at the lecture after all. She’d been so damn confused._

_But Michael hadn’t even replied to her text._

_By the time it came to New Year’s Eve and Michael’s message telling her he would be late, she’d no longer known what the hell to think. He still hadn’t even acknowledged her text from Christmas day. Did he think he could just buy her something like that and never mention it again? Surely he must’ve known it was an extravagant gesture for someone who described himself as just a friend?_

_Fuck! It was all so damn confusing._

_Already stressed enough about the lecture and having not slept properly for days she’d let her anger at his lack of contact fester and it had over spilled in her stilted responses to him._

_It didn’t help that when he’d finally arrived at the venue he’d looked more handsome, and sexier than she could have imagined in her wildest dreams. Her heart rate had practically doubled as she’d taken in his appearance, from his perfectly cut three piece suit, his shorter cropped hair and his strong, masculine jaw with its neatly trimmed stubble. For some reason she’d had another flashback of that man from the Ball. Anger had once again risen to the surface then and as Michael had unwittingly taunted her with his ‘friendship’ she’d finally lost it and let rip, sick of constantly being friend-zoned by men in general._

_Poor Michael had looked like a startled rabbit as she’d confronted him. She’d known she was being unfair, but she’d been powerless to stop._

_She'd been running on pure emotion by that point._

***

And now here she was, God only knows where.

She looked around the dimly lit open plan lounge and kitchen searching for any clue to its owner, but saw nothing identifying. The room layout was modern. The sleek white kitchen surfaces contrasted with the dark sofa and wooden occasional table in the lounge area, and all she knew was that she had never been there before.

Panic began to rise in her chest and she fought through what remained of the alcoholic fog, thankful now that the margaritas had actually been watered down considerably. The short nap seemed to have burned off much of their effects and fear was doing the rest as she moved to stand. She wobbled slightly.

Okay, maybe she _wasn’t_ quite firing on full cylinders just yet…

She righted herself and slowly tip toed across the cool tiled floor, trying to make sense of her surroundings and whatever the hell was making such strange noises. She followed the incessantly loud bangs before noticing the open glass doorway with its billowing curtains over at the far side of the room and cautiously approached it, realising it must open onto a garden or balcony.

Peeking her head around the glass she stopped in her tracks. The sky was lit up as bright, colourful fireworks shot up, leaving glittering trails behind them in the inky darkness and several loud bangs. Silhouetted in front of the lights was a man, stood stiffly, his hands grasping the rail of the balcony.

Darcey realised they must be pretty high up as the fireworks exploded, leaving glittering trails behind in their wake. Under any other circumstances it would have been magical, but in her current panicked state it just added another sinister dimension.

“Happy New Year Mike” the man muttered to himself disconsolately and Darcey muffled her gasp.

_She knew that voice._

But Mike? She’d never heard him call himself that before. It occurred to her once again in that moment that she _really_ didn’t know Michael anywhere near as well as she liked to think she did.

Hesitantly, she continued to watch him. His whole demeanour seemed sad, even just from the rear. His usually solid, straight shoulders were slumped under his dark suit jacket and he was gripping the balcony railing with a ferocity that truly worried Darcey.

“Michael…” she stepped onto the balcony, the cold chill already causing goosebumps to form on her exposed skin. She watched as his back tensed and one hand released the rail and moved swiftly up towards his face. But he didn’t turn. Or answer her immediately.

Darcey took another step forward and opened her mouth to speak.

“You’re awake then” It wasn’t a question, and she frowned at his tone. He sounded disconsolate, morose even.

“I’m so sorry…” she sighed, not really knowing what else to say. She was sorry about so many things. Being pushy, shouting at him for not wanting her the way she wanted him, and for clearly passing out on him judging by the fact that she was stood in what she now realised must be his flat, while he stood outside, on his balcony, apparently not even able to be in the same room as her.

She watched as Michael turned his head slightly, his profile now backlit by the bright lights of the fireworks and her eyes fell to his jaw. That sculptured work of art which mesmerised her whenever she was around him. She watched the nerve tick, almost hypnotically as he stood silently, still not looking in her direction and she wanted more than anything to go to him and hold him, and to make whatever was causing him to be so unhappy go away.

_Except she knew the thing responsible for his unhappiness was her._

_And she didn’t want to go anywhere._

And so Darcey stood quietly behind him, staring out across the darkness and watched what remained of the fireworks. Occasionally a Chinese lantern would float by and she would imagine the happy families and couples who had lit them and sent them on their journeys, celebrating the start of a brand new year and everything that promised. _How she yearned for that herself._

And still Michael didn’t move. Didn’t speak again.

“Happy New Year Michael…” she finally stuttered out, unable to endure the silence any longer. When he _still_ didn’t speak or even turn around she huffed in frustration, feeling more than a little hurt at the way he was ignoring her completely and turned back, heading inside and looking for her coat. _She had to get out of there_. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, tears beginning to well up and she couldn’t bear being near him any longer.

She _knew_ she’d ruined everything but she’d thought he would be decent enough to at least be civil. Waves of nausea consumed her and she wasn’t altogether convinced they had anything to do with the alcohol. She fought back tears as she stumbled around the dim room, still hunting for her coat and shoes, and now also searching for the bathroom. She had a horrible feeling she was about to be sick.

“Where the fuck is it?” she finally exploded, covering her mouth and swallowing back the bile which was steadily rising in her throat.

_No, no, no, no, no…_

“Where’s what?” Michael’s strained voice close behind her made her jump and she turned unsteadily, almost crashing into his chest “Jesus, Darcey… you’re white as a sheet…” he muttered, his puffy eyes taking in her distressed appearance.

“I think I’m gonna be…” She didn’t get the last word out, instead swallowing another nauseous gulp.

Michael pulled her instinctively towards one of the rooms. Opening the door she found herself in what she assumed was his bedroom and tensed but he continued on to another door, revealing an en suite bathroom.

“I’ll be back in a minute” he promised and Darcey watched his reflection in the mirror as he ran his hands anxiously through his hair, before disappearing out of the room. She leant her hand against the cool tiled wall for support as she tried to ride out another wave of nausea but it was no good. Leaning over the toilet she finally succumbed to the queasiness and heaved.

Out in the kitchen, Michael filled a glass with cold water and dashed back to the bathroom, hearing Darcey’s moans and whimpers. Seeing her bent over the toilet he quickly scooped back her hair and held it while she continued to vomit, wondering how the hell someone so small could produce so much. He rubbed her back steadily with his other hand and when she finally stopped retching he handed her a dampened face cloth to wipe her face with.

Darcey wouldn’t look at him but gratefully took the cool cloth, mopping her feverish brow and attempting to escape Michael’s concerned frown as she shakily made her way out of the bathroom, looking for the door back into the lounge. She’d humiliated herself quite enough for one evening and she suddenly felt exhausted. It was time to go home.

Michael stalked after her, catching her before she’d even made it to the door. “Where are you going? You should really rest…” he sighed.

“I want to go home… No. I _need_ to go home. Where’s my coat Michael?” she whispered, unable to look at him.

“Coat? Shit… I didn’t even think…” Michael muttered and Darcey groaned. _Fuck!_ Her keys were in her coat, and she’d checked that into the hotel cloakroom.

Darcey pinched her nose as she explained this to Michael and watched the frown deepen on his face. This couldn’t be happening. She was too tired to trudge all the way back to the hotel now. But the thought of staying here, in the same space as an upset and angry Michael didn’t appeal much either.

“Well, that’s settled then I guess…” Michael suddenly spoke and gestured at his bed. “You can sleep in here. I’ll take the sofa”

And with that he walked over to his wardrobe, rifled through a shelf and produced a plain grey T shirt. As he did so, Darcey spotted the set of black biker leathers hung on the back of the wardrobe door and had to hold in a gasp.

“Erm… Is this okay to sleep in?” he hesitated, before holding the T shirt out to Darcey, oblivious to her discovery.

She took it, nodding mutely.

“Right… well… I guess I’ll leave you to it” he mumbled but didn’t move. Darcey stood clutching the T shirt to her chest, not sure what to do and then Michael suddenly seemed to come to his senses and walked back into the bathroom. She heard him opening the cupboard and moments later he reappeared holding the glass of water he’d filled earlier and some painkillers.

“Here. Take these. I’m just gonna clean my teeth if that’s okay and then I’ll be out of your hair… There's a spare toothbrush on the side of the sink if you want to do the same..."

“Michael…” Darcey gasped, stopping him in his tracks.

She watched as yet again his shoulders tensed and that was it, all her pent up frustration and inadequacies flooded out in a river of tears.

“W…why… do I… why do I repel you so…so much Michael?” she stuttered, her emotions making her gasp for air and her lips tremble.

He turned then, watching nervously as she shook with emotion. She was killing him right now. He wanted to go to her so badly. But that would be wrong, _wouldn’t it?_

She deserved so much better than him.

 _He had to make her understand_.

“Darcey… you don’t repel me… It sounds like a cliché but it  _really_  isn't you… it’s me! I’m just… I can’t be in a relationship with _anyone_ … I… I just can’t” he sighed, glancing at her before looking down at his feet and shuffling nervously.

She watched as he dragged his hands roughly through his hair, then rubbed at his nose. He was clearly in some kind of emotional turmoil but she kept her mouth closed, waiting for him to continue. This was the first time he’d even remotely opened up to her and she listened, her stomach in knots as he continued.

“You… you deserve so much better than someone like me… I’m way too scared of becoming emotionally attached to anyone… I did it once before and she lied to me… and then she left me to deal with all the shit afterwards and it… _Fuck! It almost killed me Darcey… She broke me._ I was in a dark, _dark_ place. I can’t… _No_. I _won’t_ go through that again. I won’t go back there…” he gulped before whispering “not even for someone as fucking perfect as you…”

Michael glanced up, seeing hurt and shock in Darcey’s eyes and had to look away. He was so confused right now. And he was exhausted trying to fight his way through all these fucking emotions. He needed to get out of that damn room.

“Michael…” Darcey whispered. It was now or never. She had to voice her suspicions.

“It was you at the ball… wasn’t it? This is why you ran…”

Her voice was tight, emotional, and it stung Michael.

He closed his eyes and sighed, knowing the game was finally up. This was the point of no return and he could no longer lie to her anymore, so he simply nodded.

They stood then, both trying to articulate their conflicting emotions. Darcey was hurt and angry that he’d clearly known it was her and never once let on, and yet also buoyed by the realisation that Michael _wasn’t_ lying when he said he was attracted to her. She’d _felt_ his attraction at the Ball. That wasn't something he could fake. And it wasn't something he could just pretend never happened. No matter the barriers he was trying to build around himself even now she knew she wasn’t the only one who’d felt the connection between them that night. _She knew he’d felt it too_. It was unlike anything she’d ever felt before.

Meanwhile Michael had seen the anger and pain flash across Darcey’s delicate features and it was like a dagger to his heart. His brow tensed as he saw the beautiful woman in front of him falling apart right before his eyes.

“I’m… so… so sorry Darcey. I told you, you deserve so much better. I didn’t mean to hurt you… _believe me_. I… you… God, you’re just so fucking perfect and I didn’t stop to think what I was doing that night… I wanted you so damn much but then I was just so scared that we’d end up hurting each other. And I couldn’t bear that. I couldn’t bear hurting you and yet, _look_ … I still fucking managed to do it! I can’t do this… _Don't you s_ _ee?_   I fuck _everything_ up. I know I was a complete dick” he babbled all these words, unable to stop his conflicted feelings from spilling out of his traitorous mouth. 

Michael knew without doubt that he was now on the verge of tears. He clenched his jaw tightly. He would not let her see him cry. He'd managed to hide his tears out on the balcony, and he knew he needed to be even stronger to get through what he was about to say next.

Darcey just listened, not quite believing what she was hearing. Whatever the hell had this other woman done to him to make him so mistrusting, so self-deprecating and such a bag of nerves? After a pause, his voice once again cut through her thoughts and his resigned tone damn near broke her.

“Look, try to get some sleep and in the morning we’ll get you your coat back and then I’ll be out of your hair and you can pretend I never existed” and with that he stalked out of the room, closing the door resolutely behind him and letting his own tears finally fall at the realisation that he’d now well and truly lost her from his life.

Inside the bedroom, Darcey stood stock still, numbly staring at the door.

 _That was it, was it?_ _This_ was how they would part?

She continued to stare at the door for the longest time, half hoping, half praying that he’d come back.

But he didn’t.

After what seemed like hours, but which in reality was no doubt much less, dazed and tearful she took the painkillers, cleaned her teeth before fumbling with the zip at the back of her dress. She finally managed to slide it off her shoulders, scarcely registering the chill in the air as it hit her naked breasts. She slipped Michael’s T shirt over her curves, dismayed to note that it barely even covered her ass but suddenly too exhausted to even care.

She stared at the bed for a moment before numbly pulling back the duvet and slipping underneath, tears rolling down her cheeks as reality hit her. This was Michael’s bed. She stroked her hand over the soft black cotton of the duvet cover. It felt oddly familiar and then it came to her as she noticed the mismatched sheet underneath her curled up body. This was part of the set with the sheet he’d worn as a cape at the Ball.

 _The sheet she still had, balled up on her bed at home_.

That realisation set off yet another wave of tears and she buried her head in the duvet, immediately overwhelming her senses as she inhaled his scent and tried not to remember the way his hands had felt on her bare skin that fateful night or how he made her smile and laugh every time she saw him.

But it was no good. The memories taunted her and she realised she couldn’t just let something that had felt so right, _so perfect_ , just escape without one last fight. She now knew Michael had felt it too. The only thing holding the pair of them back now was Michael.

_Stubborn, beautiful, scared, hurt Michael._

Maybe she was stupid. _Maybe she really was still drunk…_ but either way her tenacity fought his rejection.

Everybody gets scared. [Everybody hurts...](https://youtu.be/ijZRCIrTgQc) sometimes. Everybody feels pain. Darcey knew this more than most. She had to make Michael understand that he couldn’t live in fear of those emotions for the rest of his life, because the flip side was worth so, so much more.

There was nothing else for it, Darcey finally realised. She was just going to have to put on her big girl pants - _wishful thinking tonight she thought_ _as, right on cue, her ridiculously tiny thong dug into her voluptuous hips in protest_ \- and step up.

Gathering what tiny semblance of courage lingered and shrugging off any remaining dignity, Darcey smoothed down Michael’s T shirt as best she could and padded across the bedroom floor to the door.

She paused for a moment, fingers poised on the handle, realising the gravity of her actions in the next few moments which could well decide her future happiness. Taking in a lungful of air for ballast she slowly turned the handle.

_Her and Michael’s happiness was worth fighting for… All she had to do now was make him realise it._

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should apologise for all the angst in this chapter... I really should. But in my defence it was a necessary evil. These guys had to vent and vent they do...
> 
> (To my two dear friends who had to listen to my tortuous whinging about Little Women... (You know who you are!) I'm sorry for inflicting it on you once again. But there are... reasons!)
> 
> Those paying attention will have noticed the year mentioned in this chapter... I did hint at this in early chapters, but just to make it explicit this story has been taking place in 2012... Again, for reasons. ;)
> 
> As always I hope you enjoyed it and look forward to your comments <3


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcey decides to grab destiny by the balls. Cue more angst, among other things...
> 
> p.s. This chapter is most definitely NSFW! You have been warned...

** Chapter Sixteen**

 

**"A woman has to live her life, or live to repent not having lived it," ~ D.H. Lawrence, Lady Chatterley's Lover**

**~~~~~**

 

Michael wiped roughly at his tear stained face in despair and sunk down wearily on the sofa. He'd been so preoccupied since arriving home he hadn’t even got as far as taking off his jacket, let alone making himself comfortable. 

The truth was, _nothing_ really mattered now. He’d been right all along. He didn’t deserve her. He’d just proved that. And there was no way Darcey would ever forgive him now.

 _Darcey._ Such a kind, open hearted and beautiful woman. Everything a man could hope for. _And he’d made her cry_. Over and over again. No. There was no reason for him to make himself comfortable. He wouldn’t be sleeping tonight.

Not with her right next door. Mere metres away. Crying. In his bedroom. _In his bed_. In that dress… _Or not._ He hadn’t waited around to see whether she took up his offer of alternative sleepwear. _There was, after all, only so much temptation a man could take._ No matter how wrong it would be.

He laid his head back and stared up at the ceiling. Every nerve in his body pulsed with emotion. He couldn’t bear it. _He couldn’t bear this._ Whatever _this_ was. His life was much simpler before he met her. He’d almost forgotten what this kind of pain felt like. He realised he was no better than Laura. By actively trying to push Darcey away, he was hurting her just as much as Laura had hurt him. Because _he_ was lying to Darcey. And he was lying to himself.

_But he had to… Didn’t he?_

Because the alternative, well that was just terrifying.

Michael inhaled deeply and tried to regulate his breathing. If only he could close his eyes and it would all just go away...

He rubbed at the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. _Well it had to be worth a shot surely?_   Taking a few more cleansing breathes, at least he could now feel his heart begin to slow down a little and opened his eyes again.

 

The last thing he was expecting to see stood over him was Darcey.

He blinked and silently rubbed at his eyes, honestly thinking he must have fallen asleep. But no. It really was Darcey. She must be some kind of stealth ninja because he hadn't heard a damn thing.

She stood in front of him, a couple of steps back from the sofa. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair messy and her eyes reddened from the tears he'd made her shed but she was staring at him steadfastly with determination and intent.

Despite this forthrightness, she nervously clung on to the hemline of her borrowed T shirt, the fabric hovering tantalisingly at the very top of her glorious thighs.

This juxtaposition was oddly arousing and despite everything he’d said, he couldn’t help the stirring in his trousers as he took in the way her heavy breasts filled his T shirt and how perkily her nipples stood to attention in the draughty room as she breathed heavily, deep with emotion. 

That in itself should have told him he was in dangerous territory but he did not move.

“Michael” she began hesitantly hoping he wouldn’t stop her in her tracks and walk out on her again. “Listen... I understand everything you’ve said to me so far… _I truly do_. I just wish you’d told me all this from the start. Because Michael… _darling_ , do you have any idea how many people have been hurt in relationships? _Do you?_ I know it’s hard… _Believe me, I truly do know_ … I’ve lost count of the times I’ve been cheated on. Actually no, I know exactly how many times. Four times Michael! _Four fucking times!_ I was engaged once Michael. _Did you know that?_   No…! Why would you?" she shook her head realising she was probably just as bad as Michael when it came to talking about her own painful experiences.

"He cheated on me… with my best friend. Well, now ex-best friend…” Darcey’s lip quivered at the memory of their betrayal but she soldiered on “Yeah! _Apparently_ he’d only dated me because Melissa wasn’t available. When she split up with her boyfriend they got together… I was just the fucking back up plan all along apparently… So _trust_ me Michael when I say I understand the pain of lies. I’ve honestly lost count of how many men have lied to me, telling me they cared about me until some hotter, younger woman came along. Each time I’ve been cast aside for some woman who could squeeze her tiny little ass into a pair of skinny jeans! And how the fuck am I ever supposed to compete with that Michael? _Tell me?!_ Because there’s no way in hell _these_ thighs are ever gonna fit in a pair!” Darcey smacked her thighs as if to make her impassioned speech explicit, in the process forgetting her hands were anchoring the risqué hemline.

Her heart was beating so fast she felt certain he must be able to see it pounding out of her chest and tears were once again threatening to fall.

Michael stood up then, towering over Darcey, his eyes swimming with emotion as he stared down at her.

“Don’t you see Michael? _Everybody_ is carrying pain around with them… But it doesn’t have to stop them finding happiness… and love” she whispered, her cheeks blushing crimson.

"But I can't. I don’t even remember the old me anymore Darcey. Laura…that was my ex, she lied to me. She was ill and didn’t bother to tell me. And then she died… I hate her for dying! But I hate her even more for not even fucking telling me! And I still carry that burden heavily"

Darcey gasped at this revelation. She wanted to hold him, to make all the pain go away. How long had he been bottling all this up? She couldn’t believe he was allowing his anger and fear to stop him from finding happiness. She had to make him understand it was okay to feel betrayed, but that it was even more important not to close himself off.

“Michael… How long ago was this? Because you know, you are a good person. A kind person. You deserve happiness… we _all_ do. And Michael? _You_ _make_ _me_ _happy…_ ” she whispered the final sentence, unable to look him in the eye for fear of what she'd see reflected back at her.

“It was ten years ago Darcey…” Her face must have been a picture because Michael sighed then and shook his head.

“I know, _I know!_ It’s fucking ridiculous! I’ve been living in this hell ever since… Until I met you. But I don’t know if I can love you the way you want me to love you Darcey" he sighed "I honestly think I might be broken. I don’t deserve you. The old me would have loved you. _Jesus Christ Darcey! He would have fucking adored you_. But that’s not me anymore and you deserve better. Someone who can treat you like the beautiful rose you are. Who will nurture you. Sow their seed so that one day you can be the wife and mother you so desperately deserve to be. Because you are fucking perfect Darcey Collins…" tears slid down his face as he faced his own inadequacies.

Darcey took a step closer and standing on tip toes, looked up into his steely blue eyes. She saw turmoil in them. But she also saw something else. She saw the unmistakeable glimmer of desire. Words were still not quite getting through to him.

Maybe it was time to _show_ him.

She hesitantly took his hand and placed it over the soft lace covering her core. Michael couldn’t stop a low groan from escaping his treacherous lips. His hand cupped the hidden treasure he'd felt certain he was never to discover again through the fine fabric.

_This was not playing fair!_

Michael tried to pull away but Darcey placed her own hand over his and pressed his fingers harder against her mound, eliciting a louder groan from both their lips.

"Feel this. Feel how I tremble for you. _For you Michael!”_ she whimpered “Feel the life that pulses through me, waiting, begging to be lived _with you!_ Feel how I long for your touch. How I come alive under your caress. How I _weep_ for you. For the Michael stood here now, in front of me. Not the Michael you think you once were. I didn’t know that Michael… I only know the beautiful, kind soul who stands before me now… _My_ _Michael"_

As if to make the point explicit she parted her legs slightly and pressed Michael's long fingers against her clothed folds. He could feel the slickness of her _tears_ even there, betraying her arousal.

Not that there was really anything to betray. _She wanted him to know._ She wanted _him_. _Only him_.

They stood there for a moment, both hearts beating more rapidly than they’d done in such a long time, and now for very different reasons. Darcey stared up at the stubbled jaw of the man she had bared herself to, both emotionally and now physically, searching for a reaction _, any reaction_ , in his resolute demeanour.

So it came as quite a shock when he pulled his hand firmly away and turned his back to her.

Darcey stood for a moment, suddenly feeling naked and trembling as foolishness and embarrassment coursed through her veins. _Of course he didn’t want her. What an absolute fool she was!_ Her lips began to tremble and she couldn’t stop the tears from falling, any semblance of dignity now long gone.

Letting out a humiliated cry she made to turn and run back to the bedroom when she felt resistance.

“Darcey..!” Michael’s own strangulated sob stopped her in her tracks but she couldn’t see from where it came, so full of tears were her eyes.

“Darcey… _love!_ Don’t run away from me…” there was a hint of desperation in Michael’s voice as he turned her towards him.

The hand which had stopped her escape now slid down from her elbow and enveloped her hand, pulling her closer towards him.

His other hand came to her cheek and with the lightest of touches he stroked away the tears, his laboured breathing betraying his own anguish.

“Please don’t cry… I don’t deserve your tears” he sniffed “I don’t deserve you…”

“Please…” Darcey closed her eyes and sniffled pathetically “Stop saying that Michael! Don’t toy with me… I can’t take any more. It’s too cruel… please just let me go”

“Never” was his surprisingly resolute answer.

Darcey blinked her eyes open and gasped. Michael stood before her, his dazzling blue eyes wild with desire as he stared resolutely past the damp lashes of her own.

“What..?”

“You heard me Darcey Collins… _Never again_ will I let you go. I’ve been a fucking idiot, living in the past, amongst ghosts… when there was a living, breathing future right here, in front of me. _You Darcey!_ I see it now. You could well be my future… If you'd still have me?”

And with that he pulled her to him, chest to chest as their mouths tenderly touched, cautiously testing one another.

Gingerly, Michael deepened the kiss, parting Darcey’s willing lips with his tongue as he began to taste her. How long it had been since that night at the Ball and yet here, now in this moment it seemed like only yesterday. It just seemed right. What a complete and utter idiot he’d been. Avoiding _this_ , depriving them both of this exquisite pleasure.

He slipped his hands around her waist and tightened his grip, eliciting a low moan from Darcey. She reciprocated by nipping at his bottom lip before pulling her head back just enough so that she could look up at him through her dark lashes.

“Prove it Michael. _Prove you mean this_ … Make love to me, _please_ …” she whispered hungrily.

Michael gulped and a whole host of emotions flashed across his face. From shock and lust, to fear and anxiety. It had been such a long time since he’d been intimate with anyone. He wanted Darcey so badly but he was also petrified that he’d be a disappointment to her.

As if she could read his mind she pulled away from him and stared into his cerulean eyes, filled with a mix of longing and worry.

“Michael… baby” she crooned “believe me when I say there is nothing that I want more than to be with you right now. I know you’re nervous… _I am too._ It's been a long time for me as well. Over four years now that we're being totally honest” she confessed “And if it’s too soon I understand… I really do. But all I want is to be with you, to be close to you…to touch you… to feel you touch me…”

Darcey licked her lips, watching as Michael’s eyes began to dilate, realising he was beginning to react to her words.

“I want to feel your big, strong hands stroke my skin. I want to feel them on my breasts…and on my ass… just like you did at Halloween. I want your lips to caress me, your fingers to stroke me… _Oh God!_ I want to _feel_ you inside me so badly Michael...” she gasped as all her fantasies came flooding out of her mouth without censor.

“And in return I would do anything for you… _anything baby… if you would only make love to me_ …” she thrust herself against him then and groaned as she felt his hardness pressing insistently against her stomach. She slid her hands around to his ass and squeezed his firm buttocks, forcing him even closer and he let out a primal growl.

_Oh fuck! Anything?_

“Really?  _Anything..?"_ he groaned _"_  You are going to be the death of me Darcey Collins…” he gasped. His mind was going into overdrive as he tried to process her words. In every fantasy he’d ever had about her - _and he’d had plenty_ \- there was always one common theme. She was _always_ wearing her heels.

Darcey licked her lips expectantly and grinned. “ _Anything!_ Tell me what you want…”

_Would it be crass to ask her to wear her heels now he wondered?_

Jesus. Tonight was already shaping up to be one crazy ass night of emotions... Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

“Darcey… love…” he began. _He had no idea how the fuck he was going to ask this or how she would react so he decided to just be honest._

“Yes..?” Darcey replied, enjoying the relaxed way he now used that word, but suddenly worried that maybe she’d come across perhaps a little _too_ desperate. She glanced up, watching him fight some internal battle. It was strange that she should be stood there, so exposed in the short T shirt, yet it was Michael – still fully clothed – who was the person looking like a deer in the headlights right now.

“Michael just tell me… what is it?” Her brain began to go into overdrive and she started to fret over her earlier words.

_Please don’t let it be some real kinky shit… Oh fuck… Please don’t let him have changed his mind. Please God. Don’t be that fucking cruel._

“I… Christ! You’re gonna think I’m some fucking weirdo…” he paused and Darcey bit her lip, a little panicked, before he continued “It’s just… well I love the way you walk in your high heels….They’re hot as fuck! You're hot as fuck!” He finally confessed, not able to meet her eyes.

“Oh...” Darcey grinned then and pulled away from him, looking around the room, her brows knitted together as she searched for her shoes.

“They’re over near the door…” Michael offered helpfully, his eyes lighting up as he realised she wasn’t totally repulsed by his confession. What’s more, she seemed game to put them back on. At that thought he tried to compose himself as nervous excitement coursed through his body.

Darcey found her shoes and turned to see Michael stood where she’d left him, inches from the sofa, watching her like a hawk.

_Good. She had an idea how to relax him._

She slowly bent forward, wiggling her ass and making sure to arch her back as she slipped each foot gracefully into her stilettos. She slowly stroked her hands up her lush thighs indulgently as she stood back upright and turned on the spot.

Michael’s eyes were on stalks and his mouth was hanging open as he watched her every move.

“Sit down Michael… _relax_ ” she purred.

Michael raised an eyebrow but did as she said, sinking down onto the edge of the sofa, his legs splayed and his eyes fixed on her.

Darcey licked her lips and took a deep breath. Was she really going to do this?

_Hell yes she was! Here goes nothing…_

Slowly, deliberately, Darcey took her first step towards him in her heels, wiggling her hips hypnotically as she unhurriedly stalked her prey. 

Michael watched her hips sway, taking in the way the heels elongated her legs. His cock throbbed as he caught the merest glimpse of black lace peeking out from under the soft cotton of his T shirt as it brushed against her curvaceous thighs. _Fuck yes!_ She was wearing _his T shirt_ while she strutted towards him…in _his flat…_ in those sexy as hell heels… _This was the stuff of fantasies and it was really happening!_

He suddenly felt his airways constrict as she drew closer and without taking his eyes off her he fumbled with his tie, loosening it and slipping it off his neck in an attempt to get some much needed air into his lungs.

Darcey watched him and faltered for a moment.

_Holy fuck! Only Michael could turn taking a tie off into an art form all of its own!_

Little did she know that Michael was thinking the exact same thing of Darcey simply walking.

_Jesus. Was it just him or was it suddenly hot in here?_

He quickly shrugged off his jacket and waistcoat, and loosened another button on his shirt, panting as she finally reached him and leant over, pressing her warm, moist lips chastely against his own parched ones. She moved to stand back up but he grabbed her, pulling her onto his lap so that she was straddling him. He licked his lips before crashing them against her own and this time there was nothing chaste. They assaulted one another’s mouths with scorching ferocity and Michael’s hands began to wander up and down her back before settling over the soft, rounded globes of her ass. He squeezed gently, eliciting a wanton moan into his mouth and he knew then he wanted to hear that sound again and again.

Darcey thrust her chest against his, craving more of his touch and was rewarded with another squeeze of her ass, this time a little firmer.

“Oh God!” she gasped and buried her head into the nook of his neck before nuzzling against the shell of his ear as he slowly stroked and squeezed her ass rhythmically.

"Those men you talked about..." Michael growled, giving her ass a particularly firm squeeze "were fucking imbeciles Darcey, d'you hear me? Who the fuck would trade this..." he dug his nails into her flesh, eliciting a deep gasp of pleasure from Darcey "for some bony ass?"

He could hear her laboured breathing in his ear and it was beginning to send him delirious. He was no longer sure what was real and what was fantasy. All he knew was that he never wanted this to end. He wanted to feel her soft body pressed against him for all eternity.

He moved forward on the sofa and wrapped her legs around his waist warning her to hold on.

She did so without question and he rose and made his way silently across the room towards his bedroom. He hovered in the doorway, glancing at his crumpled bed, the evidence of her restless sleep clear for him to see and for some reason he hesitated. It was as if he was scared to break the connection they currently shared.

Instead he carefully pressed her against the wall and lavished her neck with kisses before lowering her feet to the floor. But even then he didn’t step away from her. He lowered his hands to the hemline of her T shirt and traced his fingertips along it, searching for permission in her eyes.

She nodded, almost imperceptibly and his fingertips slipped underneath, gathering the soft fabric as they rose up over her skin, exposing her naked torso inch by glorious inch in the process until it reached her head. Michael pulled it free of her and tossed it on the floor behind him and pressed himself once more against her now almost naked form.

He linked his fingers gently through hers and very slowly drew their arms upwards so they were arced above Darcey’s head, pinning her against the wall.

He peppered her neck, her throat, her décolleté with kisses, the friction of the stubble on his chin sending waves of delight through her and making her tremble under his unhurried touch.

Her chest rose and fell as her breathing quickened and she tried to wriggle, wanting… no… _needing_ him to move his mouth just a tiny bit lower. Her nipples were aching to be teased just the way she knew he was capable.

But Michael just growled against her skin and languidly licked a strip from the gap between her breasts right up to her jugular vein. She whimpered, feeling a flood of moisture between her legs as he paused, his hot breath making her gasp. He pulled his mouth away and looked directly at her for a moment, no words spoken.

His eyes were dark with desire but there remained a directness to them as he steadfastly stared at her, the only break being as he slowly lowered his eyelashes occasionally to blink. Even that was ridiculously sexy.

It was almost like he was seeing her for the first time and she knew in that moment that she would do anything he asked her to do. This man possessed the ability to eye fuck her into oblivion.

_And what sweet oblivion it would be._

Michael finally broke their gaze and leant forward, his lips teasingly close to Darcey’s ear lobe but not touching. His hot breath made her gasp and he brought his mouth closer and growled lowly into her ear.

“Turn around” It was a command, spoken softly yet offering no room for negotiation. Not that Darcey had any intention of arguing with him. If he’d asked her to jump out of the tenth floor window right now she would have done it willingly.

He released her hands and watched as she slowly turned on the spot.

She faced the stark white wall and waited.

 _And waited_.

“Jesus Darcey… Do you have any idea how gorgeous you are?” Michael groaned and she turned her head, trying to seek him out.

“No… face the wall love… _please_ … Darcey, do you trust me?”

“Yes” she whispered without any hesitation.

“Rest your hands gently against the wall… please. I want to touch you… to stroke you. I want to feel every inch of your soft skin under my fingertips… I want to taste your skin” his voice was nearer now, his hot breath once again closing in on her exposed neck and she shivered in anticipation as he threw her earlier requests right back at her.

And then she felt him. His long fingers trailed achingly slowly up and down her naked spine, leaving goosebumps in their wake. She shuddered in delight and heard him whisper against her neck “Beautiful…. So fucking beautiful” as he continued to map out her back and shoulders, his feather-light touch making her squeeze her thighs together in frustration.

_Jesus Christ, ten years or not, this man knew exactly what he was doing._

Every time he would reach the thin strip of elastic that was the waistband of her thong she would hold her breath in anticipation. But he would then slowly slide his dextrous fingers right back up her spine and she would moan in frustration.

He repeated this several times, and she began to whimper loudly. Occasionally the cuff of his shirt would drag along her bare skin adding another frisson of excitement, reminding her just how exposed she was in comparison to him.

Darcey hated to admit it but it added to the eroticism of the moment, flashbacks of her filthy dreams with Michael centre stage, the ever obliging, seemingly shy librarian who would take her mercilessly on the creaky desks in the archive room making her gasp out “Oh fuck! Michael… I… I… _need_ _you!_ ”

“Patience love…” was his simple reply as he stepped closer and dragged one hand through her loose dark waves and lifted them away from her neck, his other hand lovingly stroking her neck upwards before settling both hands in her hair.

And then his mouth was on her again. Kissing and biting her neck and shoulders, sending waves of pleasure coursing through her veins, the soft, cool cotton of his shirt brushing against her as he pressed closer.

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long…” he groaned against her, sucking on her trembling skin, damp with perspiration “you were right… all along…” he sucked a little harder, his teeth nibbling, leaving a small pink mark.

He wanted to mark her. She was his now. There was no way he was going to let her go.

_He could do this. He could give himself to her._

Darcey felt his hands slide up her sides and reach around to cup her heavy breasts, rolling her nipples between his finger and thumb.  Her knees felt weak as he stroked her responsive skin, stoking her passion. And then his hands were back in her hair, massaging her scalp, sending tingling sensations surging through every synapse and making her shiver.

As she mewled under his touch Michael was torn between taking her right there against the wall, and just licking every damn inch of her sinful body. She tasted that good. But she deserved so much better than either of those ideas. She deserved to be made love to, not some quick fuck, up against a wall.

Under that realisation he released his hands from her hair, watching as her dishevelled locks cascaded back down her graceful back and stepped backwards the couple of paces towards the bed.

Sitting down on the edge he stared at her almost naked form, taking in the little dimples at the base of her back, the fullness of her ass and the curve of her hips and licked his lips.

_Truly beautiful._

He could feel nervous apprehension begin to overwhelm him again and faltered. _It had been so long. So fucking long since he’d been intimate with a woman. Any woman…_ But Darcey _wasn’t_ just any woman.

_She was a goddess in his eyes._

_Jesus he could just stare at her like this all night, stood prone against the wall, naked save for the miniscule slip of black lace and those sky high diamante studded heels, panting with arousal._

She was like some work of art from a bygone time.

“Michael…” Darcey’s hesitant voice brought him back from his revelry and he realised she was still stood, waiting patiently for his next command.

_Well that was interesting…_

He quickly unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged it off, trying to fight off his nerves as he rose and approached her once more.

“Come here” he whispered, some of his vulnerability spilling into his tone as he anxiously tensed his jaw, knowing that, while he took good care of himself, he was never going to win any body building competitions. He used to be self-conscious of his slim frame and it still played on his mind from time to time. He just prayed he wouldn’t be a disappointment to her.

Darcey turned and gasped. He was so close. _And dear God!_ He was now shirtless. She just stared for a moment, biting her lip. Presented with such a specimen of physical perfection, Darcey faltered. She took in Michael’s broad, masculine shoulders, his strong arms and the way his muscular chest tapered down to narrow hips. She'd had an inkling that he would have a great physique, and she knew he would be muscular, having had the pleasure of gripping his biceps that night at the Ball.

But nothing had prepared her for this… She couldn’t make out a single ounce of fat on any part of his body. His smooth, pale and lightly freckled skin was taut over clearly defined sinewy muscle.

The effect was completely disconcerting for Darcey when she contrasted this lean, yet muscular physique with Michael's otherwise seemingly bookish aura. His kind, soft blue eyes were now dark as midnight as they burned into her skin, intense with desire and, was that just a hint of nervousness?

Surely to God librarian’s weren’t supposed to look _this_ good shirtless!

She almost laughed at that until she realised her predicament. She was far from a perfect specimen herself. Her thighs rubbed together, her large breasts got in the way of pretty much everything she did and her arse and hips were the bane of her life when it came to buying clothes. That was actually one of the reasons she tended to wear the clothes she did.

_As she’d mentioned, skinny jeans were not her friend._

Michael on the other hand? Damn. He could certainly carry off a pair of slim fitting jeans to perfection.

_And a suit? Oh good lord!_

Speaking of which…

“One of us is still wearing far too many clothes Michael…” she raised her eyebrow coquettishly, trying to shake off her nerves as he remained stock still, just staring at her. His eyes wandered slowly down the entire length of her body before languidly moving back up, taking in every inch of her nakedness and making her squirm for a moment as a blush rose throughout her body.

She should have been embarrassed. But at the same time there was something in Michael's eyes that she found encouraging. He was staring at her like she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen and she could see the way his chest had quickened with his laboured breathing. She found it strangely exhilarating and it boosted her confidence.  

She walked over to where he sat on the edge of the bed, his legs splayed and knelt down in front of him.

Michael looked down, licking his lips and feeling his cock press insistently against his trousers and wriggled uncomfortably.

Darcey looked up at him though hooded eyes.

She slowly, deliberately untied Michael’s dress shoes and slipped them off, one by one, placing each one neatly to the side before doing the same with his socks. Then she ran her hands up the back of Michael’s clothed calves, stroking the sinewy muscle under her fingertips. As her hands reached the back of his knees she slid them around to the front and then her small hands massaged their way slowly up his solid thighs until they were resting on his hips. In doing so, she’d had to shuffle closer, her kneeling body now enveloped by Michael’s long legs.

Michael groaned under her touch, making her lick her lips in anticipation. She glanced up and found him staring down at her. His forehead was beaded with sweat and his pupils were blown wide as he watched, entranced as she brought both hands to rest at the buckle of his belt.

“ _Darcey…_ ” Michael pleaded impatiently.

 “Oh… now look who’s begging!” she teased, pulling at the belt buckle with one hand while trailing her other hand down and over his very obvious bulge, eliciting an almost feral growl from Michael. Darcey cupped his cock, massaging him through the fabric of his formal trousers and felt her own arousal seep through the scrap of lace covering her pussy as she felt him grow even harder under her touch.

She moved her hand back up to meet the other and unfastened Michael’s zip. He let out a hiss as some of the pressure was released from his aching cock and Darcey began to tug at his trousers.

Michael was panting heavily now but quickly got the hint and lifted himself high enough to push his trousers down over his narrow hips. Darcey made quick work of sliding them off completely and then using his knees to stabilise herself, slowly rose back upright so that she stood before him. They were now both naked save for their black underwear and Darcey’s heels and Michael pulled her forcefully towards him as he fell back onto the bed.

Darcey climbed onto the bed and straddled him, pressing her moist heat against his insistent hardness. She gasped as she felt Michael buck against her, his hands gripping her hips and squeezing indulgently.

“Jesus Darcey… Do you have any clue how fucking sexy you are?” Michael moaned and Darcey gasped in response, feeling him slide his hands around from her hips to her tummy, his fingers slipping under the barely there straps of her thong. Reaching the front he did something unexpected. He slowly, teasingly stroked both his thumbs up and down over the gathered lace barely covering her pussy while simultaneously stroking her stomach.

It was maddeningly hot and she began to whimper. She knew she must be sopping wet already but Michael’s pace didn’t falter. If anything he increased the pressure against her sodden, aching lips and she arched her back, leaning back and using each of his knees for support as she began rubbing her ass up and down his throbbing bulge.

“Oh God! Michael… you’re gonna make me come…” she gasped out. Michael slid his thumbs under the lace, finding her clit engorged from the delicious friction of the fabric. He applied the same rhythmic pressure, watching transfixed as she threw her head back, her glorious breasts bouncing and swaying as she writhed above him, her high heels rubbing against his tensed thighs and her thick ass massaging his cock almost to the point of no return.

“Fuck! Darcey… you feel _so_ good! Come for me love… ” he grunted.

Darcey could barely focus. The exquisite pleasure of Michael’s thumbs inside her soaking folds, massaging her throbbing clit combined with the friction of his rock hard cock underneath her and pushed her over the edge as she screamed her release in a series of gasps and moans.

Her thighs clenched around Michael’s and he slowly withdrew his thumbs, eliciting a moan at their loss from Darcey. Panting for breath she straightened up, running one hand across her sweat soaked brow while her other unconsciously trailed down to her tight, erect nipples and squeezed one, much to Michael’s shocked delight.

“ _Fuck!_ You _are_ gonna be the death of me girl! I knew it from the very first time I saw you!”

He stared at her then, raising one of his thumbs soaked in her juices to his mouth and sucking it lasciviously, all the while eye fucking her.

 _Two can play that game love,_ he thought.

Darcey was still panting but let go of her breast and lowered herself so that she lay directly on top of Michael and took his other thumb to her own mouth and slowly licked her essence off him. 

Michael growled and spun her over so that she was now pinned underneath him and she moaned with delight as his weight crushed her sweat soaked breasts against his hard chest. He lowered his mouth to the shell of her ear and when he spoke, his voice was deeper and more gravelly than Darcey had ever heard it before, thick with desire.

“I _need_ to feel you. _I need you baby_ , but I got to just warn you… it’s been so fucking long… I doubt I’ll last, but I want to be inside you so bad love… please?” his hot breath panted in her ear desperately and she turned her head, connecting with his flushed cheek, the day old stubble rubbing deliciously against her kiss bruised lips.

“Michael one minute or one hour… it makes absolutely no difference to me baby… I want to feel you too. We have all the time in the world to build you back up to full strength!” she giggled then, pushing against his chest and wriggling free onto her side and Michael gave her ass a slap.

“Cheeky!” he grinned, flashing his teeth and she groaned with pleasure before laughing even more.

Michael raised his eyebrows “If I didn’t know better I’d think you were trying to get another smacked bottom Miss Collins!”

“Maybe…” she winked and he growled, bringing his mouth to her shoulder and biting gently.

_Seriously. She was going to be the death of him…_

“Maybe I have other ways of punishing you…” he smirked and lowered his head momentarily to her plump, heaving breasts, taking one of her stiff peaks in his needy mouth, rolling his tongue around her sensitive areola and prompting another moan from Darcey. His hand came to her other breast and massaged its luscious fullness. Moving his mouth away he swapped his attention and finally breaking away he pulled right back, before kneeling up with a deep frown on his face.

“Shit! Clearly I wasn’t expecting any of this because I just realised... I don’t have anything…” he sighed.

Understanding immediately, Darcey grinned “Michael… I take the pill, we’re fine…that's if that's okay with you?”

Michael’s face brightened again giving Darcey her response but he hesitated then for a moment. 

“Are you sure? ‘Cause I can wait if necessary…” he trailed off apprehensively.

“Maybe _you_ can but _I_ damn well can’t! I’ve waited quite long enough Mr Fassbender… make love to me Michael… _Now!”_

Darcey pushed at Michael’s boxers impatiently and he laughed “ _Jesus Darcey!_ Are you always this demanding?”

“Not always… sometimes I’m quite happy to be told what to do… But we’ve done more than enough talking for one night…” she winked and slid his boxers down, watching in awe as his thick, hard cock was finally revealed, slapping heavily against Michael’s stomach.

Darcey stared for a moment, mouth open and lost for words and Michael almost lost his nerve. _Was there something wrong with him?_   He glanced down at his cock nervously. He knew it had been a long time but he’d never had any complaints before.

“Holy fuck! Now I know exactly what that vein was powering!” Darcey snorted, much to Michael’s confusion. He opened his mouth to question her but she pressed her lips to his once more before sitting upright.

“ _Thank you Lord!_ ” she gasped and quickly dispensed of her thong and straddled him.

She positioned her slick folds over his throbbing cock and leant down to kiss him gently on his lips again. “All silly jokes aside you are amazing Michael…” she whispered, before grinding herself along his length.

Michael deepened the kiss, rolling her over and pinning her back underneath his weight. He breathed her in, her hot breath mingling with his own and grabbed her ass, parting her folds wider and teasing her slit with his stiff member before slowly, cautiously breeching her entrance. All the while he stared down into her warm, chocolate eyes, seeing them grow wider as he pushed achingly slowly into her hot, moist depths.

“Fuck! Darce…. You’re so damn tight…” Michael groaned, biting his lip as Darcey cried out. He immediately stilled, worried he’d hurt her but she blinked her eyes open and gripped his back, her nails squeezing tightly to his muscular flesh as she pulled him deeper.

“ _Oh. My. God!_ Michael… you feel so fucking good!” she gasped, her mouth forming a perfect ‘O’ as her walls adjusted to him, and then Michael started to slowly move again.

“You’re huge!” she moaned and Michael grinned, slowly withdrawing before plunging deeply back into her hot, wet folds, revelling in her delighted gasps.

His confidence was starting to return. It was true what they said… It was just like riding a bike. Except if Darcey was a bike she would be a fucking Harley-Davidson

She growled and purred just like an engine in its prime and they quickly found a punishing rhythm. There would be plenty of time for slow and tortuous in the future but tonight was not one of those nights. Tonight was the chance for them to finally connect, in the most basic, carnal way possible.

Darcey clung to Michael as he picked up the pace. He could feel her walls beginning to contract and tremble around his length and he knew he would not last very much longer. He paused for a moment and Darcey looked up worriedly at him.

“Are you okay?” she panted.

“Better than I’ve been in a very, very long time baby!” he growled down at her and pulled her knees up towards her chest, spreading her wider and tilting her pelvis so that he could take her even deeper.

This time as he thrust himself to the hilt, he hit her G spot and Darcey cursed and dug her nails even tighter into his back.

“Oh fuck Michael! There… right there…. Don’t stop baby!!” she began to babble incoherently as Michael set a relentless pace. He thrust harder and faster, filling the room with the filthy sounds of flesh on flesh and their wanton moans of encouragement.

He could feel the sweat rolling down his face as he rutted hard inside Darcey’s trembling heat, her walls beginning to pulse and squeeze him even tighter, signalling her imminent release.

_This was for all the time wasted. All the tears they'd both shed. This was the meeting of minds and bodies in the most basic way possible._

“ _Yes! Oh God_ … don’t stop Michael… right there…. Yes…. _Yes!_ Oh…fuck!” she screamed out as her orgasm finally flooded throughout her entire body, from the tips of her toes to the hairs on her head.

“Fuck!” Michael grunted as Darcey’s climax triggered his own. His thrusts started to become irregular and he came moments later, pumping his thick seed deep into her welcoming warmth. He collapsed over Darcey’s limp body, careful to lean on his elbows so as not to crush her, and they both lay panting for quite some time before either could speak.

It was Darcey who finally broke the silence.

 _“That… was… day one?!”_ she gasped, before lifting a hand to wipe Michael’s sweaty brow.

“And…?” he questioned hesitantly.

“Meh…It was okay… _I guess!_ ” she teased, grinning as she winked up at him from under her long lashes.

“Oh really?” he growled, burying his lips into her neck and nibbling at the sensitive flesh. He could already feel himself hardening inside her and let out a low groan “Well then… _I guess_ we’d better get some more practice in, don’t you?”

“Wow! You really are demanding, aren’t you!” she gasped as he rolled them both over so that he was now on his back with Darcey straddling him, still impaled on his thickening shaft.

“Oh you have no idea love!” he smirked “No idea at all!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone needs me i'll be in hiding... *for shame*


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry… not sorry… The vein made me do it!

** Chapter Seventeen **

 

Slim fingers trailed their way languidly down Darcey’s side, stopping only briefly to trace an intricate design here and there before leaving goosebumps in their wake.

As they continued their tortuously divine descent, Darcey let out a low moan of pleasure and arched her back. The fingers paused for the merest of moments, as if in hesitation, before continuing down until they reached her hip bone.

Once again they stopped. It was almost as if they were waiting for something.

_Permission?_

Surely not? Darcey had made her feelings very clear by now.

_Approval?_

She’d been pretty damn vocal on that front as well, she recalled.

So what in God’s name _were_ they waiting for?

She let out an impatient whimper, hoping her vocalisation would settle whatever doubts their owner was clearly mulling over in their mind.

The fingers twitched, almost like a stutter, before slowly, _deliberately_ , gliding forward and curving across her stomach. The touch was now so light, so delicate it tickled and she let out a little shiver of delight.

_Yet again they stopped._

Darcey was beginning to think these talented fingers had been sent to Earth merely to torture her.

Because there was no doubting how talented they were. How talented _he_ was. He’d proven as much last night. Or was it this morning? God only knows… And Darcey didn’t care.

The fact was, he’d answered every single one of her beseeching requests, in the process making good on his own promises. She mentally ticked each one of them off.

_“I want to touch you…” Check._

_“To stroke you...” Double check._

_“I want to feel every inch of your soft skin under my fingertips…” TRIPLE CHECK!_

_“I want to taste you…” OH..! CHECK-FUCKING-MATE!_

Darcey had quickly discovered that his tongue was just as, if not _more_ talented than his fingers and he’d made her come too many times to keep count. The sight of him greedily lapping up her arousal was not an image which was going to leave her memory anytime soon.

_Not that she need worry about clinging on to memories too fiercely it seemed._

When he’d finally surfaced from between her trembling thighs, licking his lips like the proverbial cat that had got the cream, he’d told her… No, he’d _promised_   her, he’d be doing that _a_ _lot_.

And Darcey was never one to deny _anyone_ sustenance. _Whatever_ form that might take.

She’d yet to partake herself though. And as those fingers continued their merry little dance south she resolved to rectify that…

_Just as soon as those bloody fingers finished tormenting her of course._

As if on cue they finally reached their intended destination and she held her breath as they teased her mound, slipping further into her welcoming heat, once again sending her on a one way collision course with ecstasy…

 

_"Michael!”_

 

Darcey gasped out, her body flailing against the firmness below her.

She licked her lips and tried to snuggle deeper into the pillow, doing her best to ignore the lumps and bumps but it was no good.

Now she was awake she wasn't comfortable. One hand glided up to try to smooth down the surface, only to come into contact with solid muscle. Whatever the hell she was leaning on most certainly was not made of cotton and padding!

"Morning beautiful"

The deep yet familiar voice, still rough from sleep, startled her and she tried to move. Michael tightened his grip on her waist, pulling her closer into his chest, her face squished against his armpit.

“You... love, are not going anywhere…” he grumbled “until you tell me what’s the matter?”

Darcey frowned.

 _Okay. Maybe she could be a tiny bit comfier_. But other than that she was pretty good. No… she was bloody fantastic! She was lay, albeit a little bit squished, in Michael’s arms. Her muscles throbbed with the dull ache that only comes from being thoroughly, and repeatedly fucked. What could be better than that?

She said as much, but Michael tut tutted, clearly not buying her story.

“You cried out for me Darcey!” he finally sighed, releasing her just enough to shift so that they were now facing one another, their eyes searching the others for the lie.

When it didn’t come, Darcey frowned back at Michael, puzzlement and exasperation beginning to show.

“Michael! You know full well why I cried out… It was a lovely way to be woken but I didn’t realise I’d have to then stroke your ego before I get to stroke anything else?”

The creases in Michael’s brow furrowed deeper as he stared in confusion at Darcey.

“How exactly _did_   I wake you up love. I assure you, I’m not asking you to stroke my… erm… ego.”

_He couldn’t help the groan which escaped his lips at the thought of her stroking anything._

And that’s when Darcey went to grab Michael’s hand from where it was still buried between her thighs, only to realise what lay there was not Michael’s but her own hand.

_Oh!_

_Shit!_

Michael had followed her eyes down and watched as Darcey’s irritation turned to… _was that embarrassment?_

“Darcey?”

“Erm… it would appear I might just owe you an apology…” she groaned, feeling her cheeks burn crimson.

_Really?_

She’d had _amazing_ sex, _and lots of it_ ,  with the man of her dreams and she’d woken both of them up by touching _herself_ … and right next to him?!

_What the fuck was wrong with her?_

The sleep addled cogs in Michael’s brain slowly began to turn and he instinctively reached out for Darcey’s other hand, finding it wet, slick with her arousal.

Maybe he should have been offended. _Maybe_ he should have questioned why she’d felt the need to touch herself when he was lay right there, albeit asleep, _but most certainly more than willing to be woken to attend to her needs_ , but it was clear she was just as baffled as he was.

_Besides, it was hot as fuck!_

He brought her fingers up to his lips, locking his gaze back on Darcey’s confused eyes and slowly, teasingly, ran the tip of his tongue over the moist pads of her fingertips, licking at her essence.

Darcey watched transfixed, her pupils dilating as this gorgeous man, _who had every right to have been just a little bit miffed right now_ , opened his mouth wider and began to leisurely suck her arousal off each finger, one by glorious one.

She let out a gasp and whispered “I’m so sorry… _oh God, that feels amazing_ … I was asleep Michael… I…” another gasp “I thought it was you… _Oh fuck! I want to taste you so badly_ … _Jesus!_ ”

Darcey dragged her fingers out of Michael’s mouth, much to his bemusement and shoved him back rather ungracefully so that he was lay on his back. Before he had time to register what was happening she was straddling him, her fingers now entwined in his own as she pulled them up above his head.

Her mouth crashed down on his, her tongue parting his lips and tasting herself on them.

She kissed him with a ferocity which took both their breath away and Michael tried to break his hands free, wanting to touch her, _needing_ to pull her naked body even closer against his own.

Darcey pulled her mouth away from his, panting yet resolute as she stared down at him.

“No!” she managed to gasp out “Please… Michael… _let me._ ”

Michael stopped struggling. He was intrigued and even more turned on as she gasped for air to fill her lungs before lowering herself so that she was flush with his body, this time avoiding his mouth and instead nuzzling at his neck, her hot breathy moans going straight to his already hard cock.

“Fuck Darcey…” he growled and she giggled teasingly before beginning her descent. She trailed her tongue languidly down his tightly muscled chest, through the sparse hairs, pausing to circle each of his taut nipples and relishing the hiss from Michael as she nipped at them with her teeth. Her own nipples were pulsing, the friction as they rubbed along the naked Adonis lying beneath her making her wild and needy to reach her destination, if only so that she could finally touch them and relieve some of her own pent up frustration.

As she reached Michael’s navel she was faced with a dilemma. Her arms were now strained, stretched as far above her as they possibly could be and she still had a way to go to reach her ultimate prize. If she was being totally honest they were actually beginning to ache, but she was not ready to relinquish control just yet. She wanted Michael totally at her mercy.

Reluctantly she pulled her mouth away from his moist skin, already missing the contact, the taste and the scent of him, and licked her lips in contemplation.

Michael looked up, questioningly, wondering if she was waiting for him to take over. There was no doubting that he had been playing possum to some extent with her up to this point. His own strength could easily have overwhelmed her but there was something inherently sexy about relinquishing control, just lying back and enjoying the ride, or _whatever_ it was she ultimately had in mind…

“Can I trust you?” her soft voice broke through his thoughts and he frowned, just enough to make her bite her lip nervously.

“I thought we established that last night love?” he teased until he noticed her own eyebrows knot into a frown and quickly explained himself “I’m at your mercy… I would do _anything_ to please you… _anything you want”_

He grinned at her then, all teeth and devilish charm and she smiled back, the frown disappearing as she released his hands from her grasp and slid her own down his ribs to rest either side of his slim hips.

“Right…” she nodded, deep in contemplation. “Well then. I’m trusting you not to move those hands down here _unless_ I say so. I want to take care of _you_ now Michael… _I want to taste you…_ ” She licked her lips before moving her mouth back towards his stomach and let out a low whimper as his scent once again pervaded her senses. Breathing him in, her nose rubbed ever so lightly down past his navel and she glanced back up, checking that he was following her instructions.

Michael groaned at her words but watched on intrigued, his fingertips twitching, wanting desperately to touch her but respecting her wishes.

In order to stop the temptation he linked his hands together behind his head and propped himself up a little on the pillow so he had a better view of what was happening further down the bed.

Darcey reached the vein which had intrigued and aroused her so intensely all those weeks ago. She ran the tip of her tongue along it, mapping its course, all the while circumventing the throbbing length which lay twitching alongside it.

She gulped, realising just how big Michael really was up close and in the flesh. She tried desperately to regulate her breathing as the scent of him became almost overwhelming. She could feel her own arousal beginning to seep down her thigh and licked her lips once more.

 _She could do this_.

She _wanted_ to do this.

Darcey glanced up at Michael. His eyes were watching her intently, his lips parted in anticipation.

 _Michael_ wanted her to do this.

She lowered her tongue back and trailed it down along that maddeningly thick vein, to the point where it disappeared somewhere below the hairs at the base of his cock. She raised her head slightly, noticing another thick vein which run right up the underside of his sizeable length and licked her lips.

Starting at the base, she very slowly, meticulously ran just the tip of her tongue along his manhood, following the pulsating vein beneath the silky skin until she reached it's swollen head.

Michael groaned loudly and involuntarily bucked.

Darcey pulled away just enough to see Michael’s face, flushed with expectation and desire.

“Try to keep still Michael” she purred teasingly, holding down his hips. She grew bolder as she saw the need in his eyes and bent back down encircling his weeping tip with her tongue.

“Oh Fuck!” he hissed, tightening his fingers grasp on one another and clutching at tufts of his own hair in the process. Darcey let out her own little moan of desire as she began to lap at the pre-cum, revelling in finally tasting him for the first time.

She ran the underside of her tongue back down his length, nuzzling her nose into the thatch of reddish hairs at the base as she opened her mouth wider and drew in one of his heavy balls, massaging it with her lips as she sucked. Michael’s musky, heady scent invaded her senses as she breathed through her nose and his grunts of pleasure, interlaced with curses spurred her on.

“ _Jesus_ Darce… _Oh_ … _fuck_ … _me!”_ he growled as she released one ball only to take in the other and give it the same tantalising treatment.

Her hands, having been anchoring his now writhing hips, slid around and down the defined ‘V’ of his pelvis as she pulled her mouth away once more. She took a deep breath, placing her small palms flat against the apex of each of his thighs and knelt up so that she had a better view of Michael, laid out prone below her, and grinned wickedly.

He was watching her avidly, under heavy lashes. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide with lust and awe as he waited, not altogether patiently, to see what else she had planned for him. His cock was throbbing so hard he thought it might burst of its own accord if one of them didn’t do something soon. But still Darcey did not move her hands to relieve his tension.

Instead she moved her hands up to her heavy breasts while simultaneously shuffling forward on her knees. Michael stared, trying to make sense of what was happening, yet mesmerised as she pulled and tweaked at her already taut nipples while lowering her sopping folds onto his throbbing length.

As she began to rub herself up and down his thick shaft she whined, the friction of the length of his cock against her engorged clit, still tender from their night of passion, sending delicious pulses of electricity throughout her body.

_This was what it was like to be truly alive!_

She sighed as she pinched her sensitive nipples and looked down at the gorgeous man allowing her this moment of pure indulgence. He lay below her, forehead beaded with sweat and slack jawed as his eyes flicked from her own sweat soaked face, to her heaving breasts, to watching in awe as his cock appeared and disappeared underneath the moist pink lips of her pussy.

_Jesus. Mary and fucking Joseph!_

_He was using every goddamn scrap of willpower he could summon right now not to grab her and sink his teeth around those rosy nipples and thrust up into her sopping cunt._

“This…” Darcey suddenly broke through his thoughts, her voice low and rough “is payback for leaving me high and dry at the ball Michael!”

His eyes widened and the tiniest hint of panic began to set in.

_No! She wouldn’t._

_Would she?_

Surely this hadn’t _all_   been a rouse just to finally torture him? He knew he deserved it but surely she wouldn’t be that cruel?

“Darcey?” he rasped and she heard the panic in his voice, stilling immediately.

“Shit! Michael… _baby_ … It was just meant as a little joke” the fear that she’d hurt his feelings began to well up inside her and she released her breasts, leaning down over him and kissed him squarely on the mouth.

From its crude beginnings it turned into a slow, sensuous kiss. An apology and a promise of much more to come. When they finally broke again for air, Michael’s hands now buried in her hair, she looked at him in concern.

“I’m really sorry…” she sniffed back a tear and Michael released her hair and pulled her into a hug for a moment before looking her straight in the eye.

“No… Darcey. _I’m_ sorry for freaking out!  You have every right to tease me if that’s what you want… I’m at your mercy love. Do your worst!”

He winked at her then and she giggled, raising her eyebrows.

“Oh Mr Fassbender… You are going to regret saying that!” she purred playfully as she slid back down so that her mouth was now poised just above his cock, now slick with both their mingled arousal.

“I fucking hope so love!” he growled back, watching as she slipped one of her delicately small hands around the base and sunk her plump pink lips around his leaking head.

Tortuously slowly she lowered her mouth, taking more and more of him in. She could taste herself on him, blending with his own unique flavour and it spurred her on. It was almost intoxicating how much she wanted to taste him, feel even more of him. She quickly realised there was no way she was going to be able to accommodate his entire length in her mouth without gagging, he was that big, but she put in a valiant effort, using both her hands to support the base as she slowly began to suck, building up a rhythm.

She sucked and licked and each time her mouth reached the tip she would swirl her tongue and flick it over his frenulum, leaving Michael gasping for air.

She could feel him begin to stiffen beneath her, his cock pulsating as it signalled his imminent release and she removed her mouth with a pop.

Michael looked down, a pained expression on his face at the loss of contact but he needn’t have worried. As his eyes met Darcey’s he saw her lick one of her small hands to lubricate it before lowering it and gripping his now engorged head, gently pulling back the foreskin as she trailed her fingers up and down the entire length. She repeated this with her other hand and it too began to massage his cock, working in tandem to bring him closer and closer to his climax.

“Oh God… Darcey… baby…” he began to grunt and bucked underneath her skilful hands but this time she didn’t stop.

This time she didn’t scold. This time Darcey lowered her mouth and encircled her plump slick lips around him, hollowing out her cheeks as she began to suck with a fervour that set off a chain reaction inside Michael.

She could feel him grow harder, if that was even possible, and then he grunted in warning “ _Darcey…I... I.. Jesus…!_ ”

She picked up pace, sucking wantonly as she cupped his balls, feeling them tighten under her touch as he finally began to pulse and released himself with a deep growl of relief.

Darcey swallowed around him, taking all he had to offer until finally he shuddered and began to soften. With a sigh of pleasure she reluctantly released him, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and crept up alongside him on the bed.

Michael was lay flat out, limp limbed, head laid back on the pillow with his eyes wide open, dazed and staring up at the ceiling. His entire body was bathed in a sheen of sweat as he gasped and panted for breath.

_It was the sexiest fucking thing Darcey had ever seen in her entire life._

Because _she_ had done this to him.

Her immense pride bubbled to the surface as she snuggled into his heaving chest.

They were silent for quite a few moments before Michael finally managed to gasp out “Christ Darce! I think you broke me!”

She snorted with laughter at that and hugged him.

Soon enough they were both giggling as Michael turned onto his side and they embraced one another.

“So then…” she grinned at him some time later “am I forgiven? Or are _you_ now going to torture _me_ for touching myself and then teasing you about the Ball?”

“As if I would even entertain the idea of indulging in such _schadenfreude!_ ” Michael gasped incredulously, a wicked grin beginning to form on his face as he squeezed her ass possessively.

“ _Fuck!_ I never knew German could sound so hot!” Darcey groaned and bit her lip “Say it again… _please!_ ” she begged “In fact, say anything… Just so long as it's in German!”

“Ich möchte mein Leben leben, so dass meine Nächte nicht voll Reue sind” Michael growled against her ear, watching as Darcey writhed underneath him in delight, sending shockwaves directly to his cock.

“That’s it… You’re gonna have to call Madeline and tell her you quit. I’m never letting you leave this bed again…” she groaned, parting her thighs and wrapping them around him, willing him closer.

“Dein Wunsch ist mir Befehl!” he grinned and slowly pushed into her welcoming heat, knowing in that instant that _this_ was his life.

_This woman here, right beneath him._

Darcey was his life. Darcey was his future and neither one of them was going to waste a single second more of their lives on regret.

 

 

_**~ The End ~** _

 

Authors notes:

_**“Ich möchte mein Leben leben, so dass meine Nächte nicht voll Reue sind”** is the German translation of a D.H. Lawrence 'Sons and Lovers' quote “ **I want to live my life so that my nights are not full of regrets”**_

_**“Dein Wunsch ist mir Befehl!”**_ is German for **“Your wish is my command!”**

'The vein' should need no introduction. But just in case... here's a quick reminder:

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it! I've decided, after much deliberation to leave it there... for now.
> 
> But never fear. I have a couple of ideas for some shorts and one shots involving these two...  
> So in the words of Arnie... 'I'll be back!"
> 
> I hope you enjoyed my first Fassy fic. Thanks for sticking around for the ride! <3

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first foray into Fassy fics so please be gentle with me. I am more than aware it will never live up to the lofty heights of the Fassy writers I so admire. With that being said, I hope you enjoy it and would be grateful for any constructive criticism. :)
> 
> I hate the title so consider it a working title for now... it may change. (Any suggestions gratefully received on a postcard!) 
> 
> This work came to fruition after a comment on a Tumblr post stuck in my silly little mind. For that reason, all rights to the original premise must go to http://fassynated.tumblr.com/
> 
> I just hope I haven't butchered the idea too much...
> 
> p.s. Here's the link to the comment that set the cogs of my mind in motion: http://fassynated.tumblr.com/post/130165525530/hungerinmountjoy-fassy-with-eyeglasses-is-sexy.


End file.
